Wanton Confessions of a Teenage Witch
by JolieFille
Summary: ...sometimes, I wonder if it's possible to seduce someone into becoming good. I mean, if you try hard enough, and you have enough sex appeal, I bet you could... Hmm, a new defense technique...I'm a genius! I wonder if anyone else has thought of this!
1. Mr Macmillian

Wanton Confessions of a Teenage Witch

Chapter One: Mr. Macmillian

Ok. Focus. Dementors are stationed in this school. It is not in their nature to be...er...what did Dumbledore say? I glanced up from my seat at the Hufflepuff table to see Dumbledore gesturing towards the front of the Gryffindor table, where Head Boy Percy Weasley sat rather pompously. We were supposed to rely on _him_ for safety from the dementors? Ridiculous. The boy could hardly stand a few hexes from his younger brothers, Fred and George Weasley. I took a deep breath and focused again on Dumbledore's words. Geez...couldn't he just save the welcome speech for later? I'm bloody hungry here!

"On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year." Dumbledore said. His voice sounded pretty serious. Two new teachers, eh? Oh, that's right. Defense Against the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures. I scanned the line of professors sitting at the staff table, and in Professor Kettleburn's usual spot sat Hagrid, the gamekeeper of Hogwarts. Oh God, Dumbledore didn't give the job to him, did he? Well, not that it mattered, I gave up Care of Magical Creatures in 6th year...

"First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." said Dumbledore, motioning a hand to his right, where I saw an unfamiliar face--a shabby looking man was sitting next to Professor Snape. Yikes. Did he get battered on his way here or something? I clapped along with everyone else, glancing around to see if anyone else thought his appearances were a bit odd. Sure enough, there were scattered murmurs amongst the crowd of students, and the occasional finger-pointing in the direction of Lupin. And quite a bit of sniggering from the Slytherin table. Arrogant little prats.

Professor Lupin smiled vaguely and turned his attention back to Dumbledore, who was now introducing Hagrid as the new Care of Magical Creatures professor. Hmm...ratty old clothes aside, he was kind of cute. He looked pretty young, but old at the same time, what with the wisps of grey that flecked his light brown hair. Just like Ernie Macmillian's father. Before I could stop myself, I sighed. What I would give to be Mrs. Macmillian. I mean, the man was just so damn charming...the way he'd flash a smile at you when you shook his hand...the way he'd run his fingers through that gorgeous silver hair...Oh God, if Ernie knew...He might be a good four years younger than me, but he's clever enough to hex me into oblivion for thinking of his father that way. Quite a pitiful declaration, I know, but there it is. More reason to keep these fantasies to myself.

Right, back to Professor Lupin. He certainly looks like a teacher. Those streaks of grey, the fine lines that defined his face, that pensive look...well, he certainly looks more like a teacher than that Lockhart did. Geez, that man did _not_ belong in a classroom. In a witch-oriented magazine, maybe, but definitely not in a classroom. Pretty as he was, the man had shit for brains. I feel sorry for anyone who had him in their fifth year. I heard the whole lot of them did horrible on their O.W.L.S., poor bastards...

"So what do you reckon about that Lupin fellow?"

I look up and saw my fellow hufflepuff Cedric Diggory smiling wryly at me. God he was cute. Shame I'm older than him. Not that it matters, I know...and it's only a year...but still...the idea of me being older than a potential beau just irks me. Yet I have a natural propensity to fancy men that are old enough to be my dad...I'm silly like that, I know. Anyway, I don't really like Cedric like that. He's a sweet guy and a good friend, but he does not rev my engine. Plus, I heard rumors that Cedric fancies some girl in Ravenclaw. Cho-something. Fourth or fifth year, I think...

"What about him?" I asked, helping myself to some baked potatoes. Yum. God bless the house elves. "He certainly looks like a teacher..."

Cedric shrugged. "But did you see his clothes?"

I looked up from my potatoes and stared at Cedric. Did he really just ask that? Cedric, of all people... "Yeah? What about them?" I asked.

Cedric laughed. "Relax, Suzie...I'm not judging him or anything. I just thought...well, it's obvious that he's...well, less than well-kempt. I'm just wondering why."

"Beats me...maybe he was attacked or something on his way here..." I offered.

"I don't think so. He was on the train with us, didn't you know?" Cedric said, raising an eyebrow in suprise. Equally suprised, I returned the look to him.

"Really? I didn't know! Wonder why he was on the train...teachers never travel with us..."

Cedric shrugged as he turned to his own meal. "Maybe to guard us...what with Sirius Black on the loose."

I nodded and turned back to my meal. "Yeah, that could be it..."

Sirius Black. Of course, that made perfect sense. And what better teacher to have protecting the students than the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? But why on earth would Sirius Black want to attack a bunch of students? He was just some nutty killer in ranks with You-Know-Who...Oh. Duh...Harry Potter. Maybe Black was after Harry...but even that...that seemed a bit far-fetched. Maybe he went looking for his master...there were rumors that he's still alive somewhere, virtually powerless...just waiting for some loyal servant of his to come to him. Oooh...getting shivers. I can barely remember the war, I was so little...I just remember there being a very gloomy atmosphere...I was almost never allowed to be alone, even in the house. I remember my mum crying quite a bit...people getting killed right and left. But then all of a sudden the man gets defeated by Harry Potter and the mood was completely uplifted. People laughed and went out more. I was allowed to sleep in my own room...everyone was so much more relaxed. Oh, I hope we weren't heading back in the direction of war. But the way everyone's gotten all panicked about Black's escape...it makes me wonder.

Ten minutes later, I was climbing up the steps to head back to the Hufflepuff common room with my mind still on Sirius Black. He looked so frightening in the photos in _The Daily Prophet_. And his eyes...they gave me goosebumps. Just looking at his face was like a horrible accident--it's so terrible you want to look away, but at the same time you're completely drawn in. I have a confession to make though. It's actually quite disturbing to the point that I feel ashamed even thinking about it. But here goes. Dad works for the ministry, and a week before term started he had forgotten his lunch at home, so I walked over to the ministry to deliver it to him. I'm walking through the rows of cubicles, trying to find my dad's. All I remember was that it was next to this really gorgeous black man. He was bald and wore an earring...very sexy. Anyway, I found my dad's cubicle, because I saw the black man sitting at his own. He was dictating something on a piece of parchment. Something about Azkaban. God, he had a sexy voice. Deep and slow...oh, right...getting off track here. Anyway, I was able to correctly locate my dad's cubicle from my gorgeous landmark so I left his lunch on his desk with a note. As I turned to leave, I ran straight into the black man (I really wish I knew his name...I should ask dad...), who had gotten up to leave his desk. He smiled (I think I might have drooled in response) and apologized before continuing on his way. I casually glanced into his cubicle when he was out of sight. His papers had vanished (figures...) and his desk was bare save for a a tray of quills and a few bottles of ink. But the walls of his cubicle were covered with photos and a large map with little pins on them. It was the photos that really got my attention. Most of them featured Sirius Black. I recognized a lot of them because they were published in _The Prophet_...pictures taken from when he first entered Azkaban... but then there were some other ones that I did not recognize...not immediately, anyway. It took me a few moments to realize they were Sirius. Picture of Sirius Black as a young man. There were a few pictures of him at what she assumed to be a wedding. He was laughing and looking cheerful...and very, very handsome. All I could think to myself was _How on earth could evil look so damn good? _I know that sounds terribly shallow...exactly why I'm ashamed to think it...He was a terrible man who did terrible things, but sometimes when I see his photos on the streets or in the papers, my mind automatically wanders off to the images of a young Sirius Black. That elegant black hair, those dark grey eyes and aristocratic features...sometimes I wonder if it's possible to seduce someone into becoming good...I mean, if you try hard enough, and you have enough sex appeal, I bet you could... Hmm, a new defense technique...I'm a genius! I wonder if anyone else has thought of this. Maybe I could ask Professor Lupin tomorrow in class. I laughed out loud at the mere thought, getting a few looks from timid looking first years in the process. I don't know the man, but I imagine he'd be a bit taken aback if I asked him if seduction was a practiced method in defense against the dark arts...

"Oi!"

Woops. I looked up to see who I had bumped into. Ohhhh dear... Heart beating oh-so-fast...

"Oh, sorry about that, Oliver..." I said, forcing a grin. "Wasn't watching where I was going!"

He cocked an eyebrow at me. I love it when he does that... "Well, that was obvious"--

"So...how was your summer?" I asked immediately, realizing he was about to turn and leave. "Have fun?"

Oliver shrugged. "It was alright. I spent most of the summer planning for the season...not saying anymore on that subject though..." he added with a grin.

The season? I had been about to ask what the hell he was talking about, but then I saw the manic glint in his eye. Of course, he was talking about quidditch...

"Hey Suzie, you guys are supposed to be looking for a new seeker, right?" Oliver asked. He was looking at me rather keenly, which I normally would have been flattered by, except now it was quidditch that had gotten him all roused up. "Any ideas on who it might be?"

I shrugged. How the hell should I know? I couldn't care three straws for the sport. I only came to the matches because all of my friends went. Oh alright. And because I enjoy watching guys like Oliver wood riding on brooms. So sue me... Although, now that I think of it, I do recall one student expressing a desire to try out for seeker... I smiled slightly as an idea came to my mind. Ok, breathe. Be bold, be cool. It's just a boy...

"Well," I said, trying to sound casual while I smiled in a hopefully coy manner, "I do know one person who's going to try out..."

"Who?" he asked, taking a step closer to me. You know, for someone with such big feet, you'd think he'd be able to take bigger steps. He was still a good couple of feet away from me. Shucks...

"Oh...I don't know, how much is it worth to you?" I asked, grinning before I could help it.

Oliver frowned. "You're kidding, right?"

"Absolutely not."

"Ok...how much do you want?"

"Quite a bit. This candidate is very able and would definitely get the position if he or she tried out."

Oliver dug into his pockets and pulled out a few galleons. "I've got three galleons and five knuts on me..."

I laughed. "I don't want your money...do you think money is a sufficient temptation to get me to betray my house and my friend"--

"Oh, so it's your friend?" Oliver asked, a smile playing around his mouth. "Well, that would narrow it down..."

"You know who my friends are?" I asked. "Are you stalking me, Mr. Wood?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, but I think I'll start doing it."

I laughed again. "Well, you won't get very far. I'm friendly with pretty much all the Hufflepuffs...I consider them all my friends."

"Ok...so what do you want then, in exchange for this piece of information? And mind you, I'd have to have it now. You guys are having tryouts in three weeks, and it'd be no use to have you tell me a day before tryouts when I've already heard from word of mouth." Oliver said in a matter-of-fact tone. This is fun, even though my heart is beating at about a thousand beats a minute...Ok, be bold...

"Well, how about a ride on your broom tonight?" I asked in the most innocent voice I could muster. I thought to somehow slip his surname into the joke, but then he would probably faint from shock...

His eyed widened and his jaw dropped. Maybe that was a _bit_ too bold. "You want to touch my most prized posession?"

I bit my lip. Now that's a bit posessive...

"You know how much I need that thing? What if you broke it?"

My mouth twisted into a wide smile. Don't laugh...

"I don't want to break it"--

"Well, you easily could! I dedicate hours a week to grooming it, making sure it's in tip-top condition to maximize its performance..."

A moment ago I wanted to burst out laughing. Now...I have to admit, I'm a bit...weirded out. Why the bloody hell was he telling me this?

"...and you think you can just ask me for a ride? My Cleansweep is my pride and joy, and it has brought me countless victories on the quidditch pitch! You want a ride, go get a Shooting Star from Madam Hooch!" Oliver exclaimed, and with that, he stormed off.

Cleansweep? A Shooting Star from Madam Hooch? Ooooh! I stared after Oliver's retreating figure. God, what an idiot. He actually thought I was talking about his Cleansweep... That guy needs to spend a bit less time on the quidditch pitch... Ah well. I sighed as I retreated to my own common room. At least I was able to flirt with him a little. Maybe with a bit more effort, he'll get it through his thick head what I want from him... But in the meantime, I have several other objects I can prey on this term. I wonder if Mr. Lupin will be one of them...

A/N: Dumbledore's lines in the beginning are taken from J.K. Rowling's _Prisoner of Azkaban_.


	2. Professor Lupin

Chapter Two: Professor Lupin

Damn him. Damn that Professor Snape to hell. _Who_ the bloody _hell_ gives detentions on the first day of school? And for a Saturday afternoon? It's supposed to be beautiful this Saturday...I wanted to spend my weekend outside, enjoying the sunshine, enjoying the crisp laughter of relaxed students all around me, enjoying the view that certain fanatical quidditch players present when they hop on their brooms for a little exercise...

And speaking of fanatics, I have resolved not to tell Oliver anything about Cedric Diggory's plans for trying out for seeker. (Yes, Cedric's the mystery candidate I was teasing Wood about). It's his fault I got detention with Snape in the first place. Ok, well...indirectly anyway. We had to make this potion today, and I got paired with Yona Henderson, a suprisingly decent Slytherin. We got along alright, and were making good timing. Despite my loathing for Snape, I still manage to do pretty good in his class. My mum thinks it's because I have a big head and I let all insults bounce off me, which I guess is a good thing... Anyway, we were supposed to add an ounce of gillyweed to the mix, so I went to Snape's cupboard to get it. On the way, I passed by Oliver and his partner--Madeline Stupid-Slut-Long-Legs Johnson. My friend Denise made up the long-legs part. (She's obsessed with her petite stature and curses Madeline frequently for her lot in life), and I came up with the stupid-slut part just now. Well she_ is _one. I swear, either she hasn't been able to buy a new Hogwarts skirt since first year, or she's doing charms on her skirt to make is smaller...and I _know _she's rich enough to buy a few dozen skirts and still have enough to buy a few diamond tiaras on the side. Anyway, there she was, sitting with Oliver, brewing potion together--well--Oliver was doing the brewing, Madeline was just sitting there looking pretty for him. I honestly don't understand how the girl got into Snape's class after fifth year. You needed an 'O' to continue... I bet she slept with him, the dirty bitch. Mind you, old Snape's so stiff and grumpy he could _use_ a good shagging to lighten up, but still...it's a matter of principle. You're supposed to get in advanced classes on merit...

Anyway, I digress. When I got the gillyweed and returned to my seat, I couldn't help but think _poor Oliver_...slaving away like that for a good-for-nothig partner...So what did I do? I taught that slutty-long-legs a lesson! I casually pointed my wand at their cauldron and (thank goodness for silent magic) sent it spilling over Madeline's lap. OK. Here's my justification. Snape sees all. Including my wand work. I figured he'd see Madeline slacking off and would take points. Not a fair punishment. Why should all of us Hufflepuffs have to suffer because Madeline's a silly tart? So if anything, I was _helping_ Madeline... Well, that is until Snape turned on me and grabbed me by my wrist and started hissing at me. (And let me tell you, it was nothing like a sort of sexy whisper of sweet-nothings). He said he saw the look of concentration on my face and knew I was doing a spell. Damn calculating mind of his. I swear, if he wasn't such a mean old git, I would have the hots for him...

Anyway, Oliver and Madeline obviously figured it was me who tipped the cauldron over. Madeline seems to hate me right now, which I certainly don't mind. Oliver was annoyed because I got him a zero for the day. I think that's a good sign though because see--he _could've_ been mad at me for spilling the potion on Madeline, but he didn't seem concerned with her. Yes, that _definitely _constitutes as a good sign...

"Suzie!"

I was just about to step into my defense against the dark arts class, but turned around to see my friend Denise trying to catch up to me. She was galloping down the hall, grinning broadly at me.

"I heard!" she breathed before I could ask her what was up. I certainly miss having Denise in my potions class...she always made that class fun. I cocked my eyebrows at her though at her statement.

"Heard about what?" I asked.

"What happened in potions! Suzie, you're such an idiot!" she laughed. "But it was brilliant!"

"You heard about it? But it just happened ten minutes ago!"

"I ran into Professor Snape and Professor Sprout on my way here. Snape was telling her about it..._complaining_ about you..." she giggled.

My face fell. "Great...Professor Sprout's going to lecture me again...oh, I _hate_ her talks, they last forever...and I can't stand the smells in her greenhouse..."

Denise laughed. "Yeah, and especially because you don't deserve it..." she said, rolling her eyes.

"You're absolutely right," I replied, ignoring the sarcasm in her voice, "I was most unjustly treated. Stupid Snape...why'd he have to go tell her?"

"Because he's a git?" Denise offered.

I smiled slightly. I love Denise...she's so...supportive. I wish she were a guy sometimes, we'd get along so well...

"I don't understand why that man teaches," I said, "I mean, nobody likes him..."

"Except kids in his own house." Denise corrected me.

"Yes, well...that's because he shows them favoritism..."

"True...and that hardly counts as true regard...you're right...why _does_ he teach if he hates us all so much?" Denise said, repeating my question.

"Maybe because he's a top-notch potion brewer."

Denise and I jumped at the unfamiliar voice behind us. We turned around and saw Professor Lupin leaning casually against the door frame, smiling slightly.

"...and his skills and knowledge in the subject...well...make up for his...er...likability." he finished, looking quite amused at Denise, who looked flustered at having been heard by a teacher.

"Or lack thereof..." I added, half expecting Lupin to laugh, but he didn't. He didn't frown either though. Instead, he backed into his classroom and motioned for us to follow.

"You two are late." he said. "Five points from Hufflepuff."

I fell into my seat, and my heart seemed to sink with it. I was under the impression that he was a cool teacher. I had heard some third years gushing about his boggart lesson this morning...

"There's no need to look at me like that, Ms. Hennessey" he said, seeming to read my mind. "You'll have plenty of opportunities at re-earning lost points in this class."

I glanced up at him as I reclined against my seat. He was smiling at me, tapping his wand against his hand. What a cute smile...Ok, he's in my good books again... Very cute smile indeed. Not something you'd ever see on the cover of _Witch Weekly_ of course, but still...it was charming. A bit faint and vague looking, but I like it that way. Gives him some mystery--not something you get very often in men. Masculine mystique--that's what they should call it...not enough guys have it...

"Ms. Hennessey?"

I blinked and looked up. Lupin was standing over my desk, smiling slightly. Oh God. Stop doing that...

"Suzie, is it?" He said to me, still smiling that vague, pretty smile. I nodded, looking rather stupid, I'll bet. "I asked you a minute ago to open your book to page twelve...it seems that you didn't hear me..."

"Oh!"

I hastily reached into my bag and pulled out my book, fumbling for page twelve. "Sorry," I said, flashing him my million galleon smile. Well, ok, it was more like a hundred, according to my Aunt Hestia, but whatever... I was tempted to say to him that I had just gotten lost in his eyes, but I reckon he wouldn't take kindly to that the way Lockhart used to. Well, at least Lockhart was useful in that way...he always overlooked inattentiveness in class as long as _he_ was the distraction. No, Lupin was not the sort. He simply nodded at my apology and turned his attention back to the rest of the class.

"Alright, as I was saying...this year, magical theory will be our main focus"--Professor Lupin smiled as a collective groan was issued from the class--"but we _will_ be having enough practical lessons to keep the class interesting, so no worries. We will be branching off into some of the more obscure areas of magic, which will include legilimancy and its counterpart, occlumency. Toward the end of this term, we'll start learning about medical magic, a series of lessons that will include some exciting fieldtrips to the hospital wing." Lupin said pleasantly.

"Sir, how does this all fall under defense magic?" asked Long-legs Madeline, who I'll grudingly admit is quite good at defense against the dark arts and probably didn't have to sleep with any professors to get into the class (though I bet she did with Lockhart anyway for fun...slut.) "I mean, I see how occlumency is--it's defense against legilimancy"--

Lupin smiled. (Does he have to smile at _everyone? _Ooh...maybe he's amused at her stupidity!). "Often times when you are learning a counter-attack, you must also learn the attack itself in order to be able to defend yourself properly. In order to know how to close your mind from invasion, you must know how it feels to have your mind invaded."

I am struck with an image of Oliver invading my mind. He'd be slightly frightened. So would Ernie Macmillian...and his dad. Denise...well, she woudn't be surprised at all...I'm so damn predictable around her that she can pretty much read my mind. As I watched Professor Lupin turn around to write on the board, I wondered how he'd feel if he knew about what was going through my mind right now. _Wish he were teaching in muggle clothes...What's the fun in watching your male teachers write on the board if their robes are covering up all that is good? _

"Yes...er...Percy, is it?"

I looked up from my notes and glanced over at Percy Weasley, who had his hand raised. I couldn't help but grin. It already seemed pretty clear that Lupin was a relaxed professor who didn't care too much for hand-raising...yet Percy seemed quite keen on following elementary school rules...Figures, as he's Head Boy...

"It says here on page twelve that legilimency is considered dark magic and has always been highly disapproved by the ministry of magic. Are you sure"--

"Yes, I'm sure it's safe to teach." Lupin said, looking a bit amused at goody two shoes Weasley. "Having a father in the ministry, I'm sure you are well aware that we as individuals will disagree with the ministry from time to time."

I bit back a laugh when I saw Percy's ears turn pink. He was my least favorite Weasley, being so obsessed with following rules and all. I swear, if a time came that the boy would have to choose between his job and his family, well...there's little doubt in my mind where he'd go...

"Right then. So the first thing we are going to cover is legilimency. We won't be delving too deep in it, and certainly won't be spending too much time practicing it, as it does border with dark magic in my opinion, but nevertheless, I will be expecting you all to have a firm grasp of its nature and its mechanics by the end of next week." Lupin said, raising his wand and tapping it on the board once to wipe it clean and tapping it again to begin a new set of notes for the class.

God, I could just sit here all day, watching him put notes up on the board. Sure, his robes were covering a probably very nice behind, but still, there were other things...like his hair. He had very nice hair. Ok, so it was a rather dull shade of light brown, but he had random wisps of grey here and there. Yes, I know that makes him look older, but it also makes him look...I don't know...worn. His hair looks tired and worn... I mean, when I see someone with hair like that, it makes me think that they've been in the world and they've seen things. And I don't know about you, but it makes me respect them. I mean, how can you _not _respect someone like that, who is so mature and has experience in life...experience in...other things...

Damn. I think Lupin heard me sigh. Oh, double damn. He's standing in front of his desk, looking like he's posed a question. And he's looking at me. Er...crap.

"Suzie, what do you think?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Oh..." I bit my lip, looking wildly around at Denise for help, who seemed to be trying very hard not to laugh. Alright, let's have a go. Just...sound casual... "Oh, well...I don't know...I agree..."

Wrong answer. A few kids behind me were sniggering. Lupin himself looked like he was about to laugh. "I'm sorry, I think you misheard me, Suzie." he said with a smile that looked a bit strained. "I asked what the most important factor is that allows a legilimens to delve into a person's mind."

Woops. I guess_ I agree _is hardly an appropriate answer...

"Can anyone help her out? Ah, yes, Madeline"--

"What? No, I know the answer!" I exclaimed before I could even stop myself. Professor Lupin had turned to Madeline, but now wheeled around and looked at me, clearly a bit surprised. Me and my everlasting fear of being outdone by Madeline...Ok, ignore the laughing. Just give the damn answer and make sure to sneer at Madeline if you're right.

"Er--it's eye contact, sir. One of the most important factors, in fact, when trying to do any kind magic, sir."

"You're perfectly right, Suzie. Eye contact is definitely one of them"--Lupin cocked an eyebrow at me when he saw me leering at Madeline--"but there's another which I'm sure you'll be able to come up with."

"Oh...um..."

I thought hard. What else was there? Gosh, I should know this. I have an aunt who's ridiculously skilled legilimens...she used to perform on me all the time...

"Think, Suzie. It's another factor that applies universally with any kind of magic. When is it easiest to attack a person?"

"Er--when they're asleep?" I blurted. More laughter. I think Oliver was amongst the group. Professor Lupin laughed as well.

"Well, yes, alright. I'll give you credit for that. But in the fully conscious state, when is it easiest to put a spell on someone?"

"When they're not paying attention?" There was another round of laughter. What? It made sense to me...

Lupin smiled and turned back to the board. "Precisely. When you're not paying attention. Or perhaps to tweak that answer a bit, I'd say when you're not expecting it. When you're inattentive. Five points to Hufflepuff."

I grinned to myself as I began to copy the new notes Lupin had put on the board. In your face, Madeline...

"And as Suzie had pointed out earlier, we have universals in magic. This is one of them. You become an easier target for, say, a bat-bogey hex when you're not paying attention to your attacker. The same goes for legilimency. You'll become an easier target if you're not expecting the person in front of you to invade your mind..."

"...and likewise," Lupin continued, glancing at me momentarily with what I was sure was an amused look, "you have a greater chance at being targeted in class for questions when you're inattentive."

There was some scattered laughter, and I felt myself blush, though I laughed as well. So Professor Lupin was a smart arse. Ok, don't sigh again, lest you want him to make some other subtle yet witty joke about you. Focus on theory of legilimency...

I sighed. Quietly, I hope. Yes, it was quiet; no one looked at me funny except Denise, but best friends don't count. Now, what was his first name again? I think it was Remus...yes, Remus Lupin was on the schedule sheet. Remus. _Remus_...God, what an exotic name. I almost giggled out loud at the thought, but turned it into a funky-sounding cough just in time to avoid strange glances. I wonder how many people in the world have ever thought that about a guy. _"Gee, **he** has an exotic name." _Usually that's a thought reserved for females. Ah well. Hmm... Suzie Lupin. Oh, God no; that sounds horrible. Mrs. Remus Lupin. Yes, much better...

But does it sound better than Suzie Wood? Or Mrs. Oliver Wood? Oh, this is tough one... I glanced around to see everyone writing down each and every one of Lupin's words while he lectured us on the history of legilimency. I picked up my quill and began writing each name combination in turn, to see which would look the best on paper.


	3. Oliver Wood

Oliver Wood

_Acromantula venom is nearly impossible to get from a live acromantula... _No, really? I stifled a yawn as I turned the page of potions book. _However, acromentula venom dries out soon after the spider's death... _Oh God. Who cares...When the bloody hell am I ever going to need their venom? If I ever need it, it'll be for Snape's class, and he's got all the ingredients we'd need in his classroom. Useless rubbish is what I call this. When am I ever going to brew a potion? If I ever need one, I can buy a bottle of just about anything ready-made. Stupid, useless class. I should've dropped it when I had the chance last year...

Now, defense against the dark arts...That's what I call a useful subject. In two weeks I've learned more stuff there than I have in six years of potions. Of course, it might be because I've got a much better (and cuter) defense teacher than I have a potions teacher, and I'm much keener on impressing the former. Lupin's awesome. Most of the school loves him. He's very cool--apparently he didn't even give detention to Fred Weasley when he jokingly called him 'Remus'! He did the same thing to McGonagall once a few years ago and had to write so many lines (_I will not address staff by their first names, and I will certainly not address the head of my house, Professor McGonagall, as 'Minny', no matter how many dungbombs Lee Jordan bribes me with_) in detention that he wasn't able to write for a week... _And_ I heard that when his third years were learning about boggarts, some kid's boggart had turned into Snape, and Lupin himself had coaxed the kid into imagining Snape in his grandmother's clothing so the boggart would assume that form. I've got the feeling that Lupin dislikes Snape as much as the next person...happy thought indeed. Oh, just the image of Lupin and Snape dueling makes me want to snigger. Hmm...I wonder if we could bring back that old dueling club Lockhard started last year...Must make a note to ask Lupin about that--without expressing any desire to see him dueling Snape, of course.

Anyway, defense is by far my favorite class. I've already learned how to produce a corporeal patronus (which is supposed to be very advanced magic, thank you very much!) Mine took the shape of a tiger. I'm kind of surprised; I thought it would be a badger, being a very proud Hufflepuff and all. Ah well. A tiger is more ferocious anyway. Oh, that reminds me! I think I'm making some progress with Oliver! See, we were on bad terms today because he cockily told me this morning that he found out Cedric Diggory was the new seeker and captain for our team, so I told him (in an equally cocky voice) that Cedric has been planning and devising techniques all summer and that Oliver was in for a major ass-whooping. I was tempted to tell him that I would be more than happy to whoop him myself, but thought better of it. Anyway, he got all spazzed and hurried away muttering to himself. So anyway, that was all this morning. He was looking rather mutinous all day. But then in class this afternoon we were practicing patroni and my tiger and his bear sort of got into a scuffle. It was quite entertaining, actually. _And_ Professor Lupin gave each of us five points for our houses. Well, us and Percy Weasley since he was the only other student who could produce a corporeal patronus...but whatever, he doesn't matter in this story. The point is, our patroni bonded. Sort of. Ok, they were trying to knock each other down, but still...Oliver and I laughed over it..._together_. I think a dreamy sigh is in order...

I know that's not the same as snogging him in the astronomy tower, but still...it's something. I'm optimistic. Right. Anyway, I should get back to studying for potions. We have an exam tomorrow and I'm scared to death of failing it. I know I said I'm alright at potions, but still...it's an exam. And it's Snape. _And_ the blasted git-of-a-professor knows my dad, who swore he'd send me a howler at breakfast if I screwed up again in my first month back at school. Apparently Sprout sent him an owl about my little potion-spilling fiasco in Snape's class, and poor dad didn't take it well. Wrote to me saying if I put another toe out of line, he'd send me to Durmstang where everyone is much tougher and meaner, and they flog you if you so much as come late to class. I'm not sure if that's quite true, but in any case, I do not want to go there. I mean, I'm perfectly content here. And who knows how attractive those guys are over there? I like my men British, thanks. Oh, or French. Or Egyptian. Oooh, or Greek. Sigh. Greeks...

I nearly jumped out of my seat when I heard the first sound of footsteps in over an hour. Who the hell was coming to the library at this time? It was fifteen minutes until 8 o'clock; Perhaps it was Madam Pince coming over to tell me it was almost closing time and that I should get ready to leave. Oh, I'd rather not have to deal with her hissing. I leaned forward and reached across the table to gather my books when Madam Pince appeared behind me.

"I know, closing time...I'm just getting ready to go." I muttered without looking up.

"Er"--

My book fell on the table with a heavy thud at the sound of the very un-Pince-like voice. I turned around and nearly pissed in my pants from surprise.

"Oliver! Sorry, thought you were Madam Pince!"

Oh God, my voice isn't normally _that_ high. Damn you, Oliver Wood. Why must you be so hot?

Oliver smiled slightly, twirling a scrap piece of parchment around his index finger. "Nah, she's downstairs telling off some first year for bringing food inside the library." he said. And then he did the unthinkable. He looked at me. Well, not at _me_...not at my _face_. I'd say about...oh, 30 degrees below my face. _Cha-ching! _He's checking out my stuff! Oh wait--nevermind. He's looking at the books in front of me. Damn. That's it. Next Hogsmeade weekend, I'm going to pay a visit to Cassandra's Clothiers...get me some push-up bras...

"Studying for potions then?" he asked, taking a step closer to me and leaning over my shoulder to see what I was studying.

"Yes. Well, I was trying to anyway. But the library's closing so..." I looked at him and shrugged. "I'll have to continue my studying elsewhere. I'm not sure where though..."

"How about in your common room?"

"Oh"--I said abruptly, very aware of the color change in my face. Damn it Wood, you're supposed to say, "Why don't we go study together somewhere? Maybe in an empty classroom, or in the astronomy tower..." I regained my composure quickly though and smiled--"Yeah, I guess I'll have to. There's no where else to study. Anyway, what are you doing here?" I asked, nudging at the piece of parchment wrapped around his finger.

"Oh--just looking up a book." he replied, pulling the scrap off his finger and waving it in front of me. "It's for potions. I can't seem to find anything in our book about Jobberknoll feathers, and Snape said there would be a question about that..."

"Oh, I found something on that, in here..." I said, reaching forward for the stack of reference books I had piled on the end of the table. I pulled out the thick leatherbound book from the bottom of the pile. _Most Potente Potions_. Oh, how I love being useful...especially to pretty men like Oliver...

"That's the one I was looking for!" Oliver said, tossing his scrap of parchment in front of me as he took a seat by me. It indeed read _Most Potente Potions_. "I was talking to Professor Lupin earlier today and he told me it was a good book to try."

"Well, you're welcome to have a look through it if you'd like..." I replied, hoping to prolong this wonderful visit as long as I could. I pushed the book his way. "I've gotten my use out of it..."

But Oliver merely smiled. Now that's what I call a _Witch Weekly_-worthy smile. Oh, yum...

"That's alright. The only thing I needed to know was what the hell Jobberknoll feathers are used for...and you said you found out..."

I rolled my eyes, wondering if I should play hard-to-get and not tell him, which would probably result in him walking away in a huff, or if I should just tell him, but then he'd just say thanks and walk away. I guess I lose in any case. Gah. Woe is me...

"Jobberknoll feathers are found in Northern Europe and America, and they're used for memory potions. Oh, and truth serums."

"You're the best, Suzie..." He said as he tore off a bit of parchment from the roll I was writing on, and hastily wrote down my words.

"Need anything else?" I asked, feeling the slightest twinge of annoyance when he made the tear. But I'll ignore it. It _is _Oliver Wood, after all...

Oliver shook his head as he got up and put the piece of parchment in his bag. "I'm good, thanks."

No...don't leave me! Damnit, say something! "Oh! Are you going?" I asked quickly.

"Well, the library _is_ closing in ten minutes..." he replied, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"Oh, right!"

Wow. For someone who usually gets all O's in my classes, I'm pretty stupid. I hastily began to pack my things away, hoping Oliver would not leave without me. Fortunately, he's gentleman enough to wait.

"Are you going to head back to your common room then?" He asked as I stuffed the last of my books in my satchel and threw the straps over my shoulder.

"Yeah...I think I just need to go over everything once more before calling it quits." I replied. Oh, if I'm dreaming, please don't wake me up. Oliver and I are walking out of the library together, and we're talking. Is this love? I think so! Ok, not _quite_, but we're definitely getting there...

Ok, maybe not. It's been about thirty seconds and we've said nothing at all to each other. God, thirty seconds is a long time. Ok, just think of something to say. Another hallway and two flights of stairs leads to the Gryffindor common rooms, I think. Another minute and we'll be torn apart! Until tomorrow anyway, we've got that blasted potions exam together in the morning...Ugh. Oh right...focus. Must make conversation...

"So, uh...how's quidditch practice going?" I asked. Wait, hold on. That probably wasn't the safest subject to bring up...Damn. But what else do you talk about with him?

But Oliver merely shrugged. Whew. "It's going alright. How about you guys?"

"No idea. I'm not on the team, you know." I replied. Geez. You'd think that as Gryffindor quidditch captain and keeper (not to mention a fanatic), he'd know who was on each house team. I was tempted to tell him that, but then thought better of it. But then I thought _oh, what the hell, _and told him anyway. He laughed. Huh. Surprise, surprise. I thought he would hex me or something, being all sensitive about his quidditch and all.

"I know you're not on the team, but I just thought you'd know, since you're obviously such good friends with Cedric Diggory..."

I couldn't help but laugh. "We're not really good friends. Just...friends. And he doesn't talk about quidditch much with me. He knows I can't stand it."

Oh shit. I think I hit a nerve. I glanced over at Oliver tentatively, feeling very sure that I had said something utterly blasphemous in his books. Yep. Positively scandalized. That would sum up the look on his face.

"You--you--why not?" he demanded.

Ok, don't laugh. Some people are stupid about sports, the way I'm stupid about...boys? Yeah, good analogy. I burst out laughing. Sigh. I have no self-control. Oh, he looks positively thunderstruck...I should really stop laughing. He might slap me if I keep at it...

"Sorry..." I finally managed, biting my lip to surpress the laughter. Gosh, why does he have to look so offended? It's just quidditch! Ah well. I should make allowances. Stupid obsessions. We all have 'em...

"You come to the games and stuff, don't you?" he asked, looking a bit accusingly at me.

"Well, yes but"--

"So why do you come and watch us play if you don't like it?"

"I never said I don't like the sport! I just said I can't stand it when you quidditch players talk about it! That's all...you guys just go on and on sometimes!" I said, fighting the urge to hex him for his stupidity. A moment of silence. Geez, it's like Quidditch was some bitchy girlfriend of his that we were fighting about. Hmph. Come to think of it, he _does _treat quidditch like it's his soulmate or something. Weirdo. I had a fleeting image of Oliver snogging his broom go through my mind. Oh, no...control yourself, Suzie...

I snorted.

Pretty loud, too. Followed by laughter. I can't help it. I snort when I find something incredibly amusing. Funnily enough, it's always over something I say. A little conceited? Maybe...just a little. Anyway, Oliver looks absolutely flabbergasted. I suppose I've lost all chances now. Denise always said my snorting would be my downfall...

"What?" He asked. "What's so funny?"

As I regained control of myself, I chanced a glance at Oliver, who looked highly amused now. Well, so long as he's laughing with me and not at me...

"Sorry...I just thought of something funny..." I replied, the image of Oliver embracing his cleansweep still fresh in my mind.

"Care to share?"

"Well, you're extremely obsessed with quidditch..." I said.

"Don't change the subject. Why were you laughing?" he asked. "Have I got something on my face?"

"Oliver, you're an idiot. _That's_ what I was laughing at! Your obsession...I swear, if it were possible to make love to quidditch, you'd be at it every day, wouldn't you?" I blurted before I could stop myself. He looked a bit shocked. Woops--bit far, eh? Oh well, while I'm at it... "Yeah, your motto could be like, _save a witch; ride a broomstick instead!" _

Surprisingly, he laughed. Did I just get away with talking dirty to Oliver Wood? Oh, Denise would be so proud of me...

"And yours is the opposite, I'm sure." He replied.

"Well, no not quite."

He paused for a moment, obviously trying to flip the statement around and see what would make sense in applying it to me. Guys are so transparent sometimes...

"Right, sorry. Save a broomstick, ride a wizard. Very nice. Not at all lewd..."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend--I had no idea you were such a prude, Oliver!" I replied, trying to sound shocked. Not that I had to make much of an effort. He really didn't strike me as the prissy sort...

"I am _not_ a prude!"

"You're as prudish as Percy Weasley."

"Ouch."

I smiled. He rolled his eyes. No defense? So he _was_ a prude? Oh great. Well, we'll have to do something about that. A little more time spent with me and we'll have him decently corrupted...

"My common room is over here." He said finally, pointing down the hall as we reached the foot of the staircase. Oh, drats. Time to say goodbye...

"Right. Well, good luck with the rest of your studying then." I said, hoping against hope that he'd kiss me goodnight. What? A girl can dream, right?

"Yeah, back at you. See you tomorrow."

I forced a smile at him as he nodded and turned on his heel to leave. Five minutes. That was about the extent of our conversation. Well, that's not _too_ bad, I suppose...I usually don't talk to him for more than a minute or so anyway when I see him. Still...this is moving a bit slowly for my taste. Usually it doesn't take me this long to get a guy to ask me out...and I've liked him since May, when I first saw his other side. What other side am I talking about? I have no idea. The one that's not quidditch, put it that way... I still remember the day...

It was towards the end of term, and we were celebrating over the Hogsmeade weekend because Dumbledore had cancelled final exams, what with the entire Chamer of Secrets fiasco. Dozens of us gathered in the Hog's Head, where it's all too easy to get drinks like firewhiskey. Well, you can imagine what a load of mostly-underage wizards and witches drinking up can lead to. It wasn't that _bad_ of course--we weren't rowdy enough to get caught by professors or other authorities--but we all had enough to get a bit tipsy. Well, 'we' being the students I was with. I myself didn't have much. I don't really like the taste of firewhiskey, to be honest. (Ok, to be _completely_ honest, I'm a wuss. The first time I tried firewhiskey, I got so pissed that I snogged my seventeen year old cousin, who by the way looks incredibly like Snape--so you can imagine how scarred I am from that incident to ever want to take so much as a swig of firewhiskey) Anyway, a few hours into the late-afternoon party, I sat waiting for Denise, who had gone up to get more butterbeers, when Oliver decided to plop over next to be in the booth-table I was sitting at.

_"How'u ya fanny!" he slurred as he nudged me hard in the side. My, his Scottish dialect certainly came out when he was drunk. I replied with a hello, though I had a suspicion that he had said something rather crude to me. I ignored it, and had been about to ask him if he was ready for the summer holidays when he fell back into his seat and groaned. _

_"Er--you alright?" I asked. I had never really thought much of Oliver Wood at the time. He was just some Gryffindor jock in my mind._

_"Got a letter from yon ba' heid fer...old erse bandit..."_

_"Er--sorry?" His sudden alcohol-influenced change in speech sounded pretty cool, but I swear I couldn't understand half of it..._

_"Hoor o'e beatin's all he needs...Sleekit wee basturt..."_

_"Um..."_

_Thankfully, Denise had arrived with the drinks, and Wood had gotten up to go. But not before bowing his head to her and saying "Lo, whure" as he passed by her. Poor Denise cocked an eyebrow at me, looking as confused, if not more so than me. _

_"What the hell was he saying?" she asked me as she passed a bottle of butterbeer to me._

_I shrugged, honestly not sure what to say. "Something about his father...all I could make out. Got a letter from his 'fer', is what he said..."_

_"And why would we care?" Denise asked, glancing over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of Oliver, who was now queuing up for another drink at the bar. _

_I shrugged again. "He's a bit pissed...I suppose it doesn't matter much what he was trying to say anyway..."_

And yet it did matter. I mean, I think it does. Why else would I remember that brief interaction with Oliver so distinctly? I never found out what Oliver was talking about, aside from the fact that he had received a letter from his dad, and I'm sure it was probably nothing anyway...but I don't know, I guess that was the first time I ever heard Oliver talking (or attempting to talk) about something personal. Actually, that was the first time I ever associated him with something other than quidditch. And I'm guessing there's few people in this school who could say the same. It was just weird. It was when I realized that Oliver wasn't just a sportsman out to win the quidditch cup, but a normal person with family. Ok, I know that sounds absolutely ridiculous, but that's just how I felt. I'm sure everyone gets that feeling from time to time--when you all of a sudden see someone in a new light. It's so weird... Anyway, yeah. I think I became a bit keener on Oliver from that point, when I realized he was human after all. I had always wondered what he had told me...if he had only said it in plain English! Something about a letter from his dad--of whom he didn't seem to be speaking very kindly. I wonder what his deal is with his father. Moreover, what kind of person is Mr. Wood? I've seen him a few times, at the train station to pick up or drop off Oliver. He's just a bigger, burlier version of Oliver--oh--and with lighter eyes. I wonder how their relationship is, or how it was at the end of last term...Moreover, I wonder how Mr. Wood and I would get along. I mean, would he like me as a daughter-in-law? I know Mrs. Wood likes me--I met her once at Flourish and Blotts and she was really sweet. But Mr. Wood...never talked to him. He looks a bit severe and rather intimidating. But then again, so does Hagrid, and his personality's anything but severe. Hopefully Mr. Wood is a similar case. Though I suppose if he isn't and he's as stern as he looks, I could survive with only one amiable in-law...

Crikey, I can't even carry a conversation with Oliver for more than five minutes and I'm already worrying about his parents...Must make note to set priorities straight...

* * *

You know, Snape isn't half bad sometimes. I mean sure, he's an absolute git 90..no wait, 95 of the time, but he's also very witty and has an attitude as sharp as Professor McGonagall's. The way he snaps at students sometimes makes me want to snigger. Like just now, when he asked Madeline-Slutty-Long-Legs if she was daft or something because he had clearly written on the board to add 3 oz of gillyweed, not 4.5. I mean, just look at that. He not only knows how to insult people who deserve it, but he also demonstrates his brilliancy in potions by knowing exactly how much gillyweed she had used. Very nice.

"Now, you should all be done with your cleansing solutions by now." Snape announced towards the end of class.

I was just corking my own sample of the cleansing solution to show Snape when I looked up and found him leaning over Madeline's shoulder, who had been working at the table in front of Janice Nelson and me. He grabbed her sample and raised it to eye level, examining it. Oh crap. Hers was blue. Was it _supposed_ to be blue? Because mine is green. I looked over at my partner, Janice, who looked equally alarmed. But glancing over to my left, I was able to breath again; Percy Weasley had just finished his own potion and his was about the same color as ours. Ok, we're safe. I smiled reassuringly at Janice, nudging my head over in Percy's direction to show her that we must've done it right. Oh double crap. Percy noticed. He looked at Janice and me briefly, sort of leeringly, and then turned to his potions partner and girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater, and whispered something to her. Probably telling her that Janice and I were comparing our potion color to his for confirmation. Oh yes, he definitely said that. Penelope smiled at him proudly and Percy was puffing his chest out like some pompous old muggle king. Git. He was now adjusting the Head Boy badge on his robes, as if to make sure it wouldn't come loose. As if my butt. He's probably got a permanent sticking charm on that stupid badge...

"Now, if I'm correct in my calculations, Johnson's cleansing solution, if used as a polish, will not cleanse items like Mr. Weasley's head boy badge, but rather, will dissolve it completely..."

I looked up to see Snape, still clutching Madeline's potion, sneering at Percy. I glanced back at Percy, who had now gone slightly pink and had abandoned adjusting his badge. I bit my lip to keep from smiling. Sucker... I then looked ahead at Madeline, whose red face could be seen through all her locks of blond hair. Geez. What a way to get two birds with one stone. I tip my hat to you, Snape...

"But as I have a class of inept first years to tend to in a few minutes," Snape continued, "you all can pack up and go. As you're cleaning up, I'll be passing back your exams from last week."

Hot damn. I studied my bum off for that thing. Ok, not really...but I _did _study. I'm expecting an E--what I usually average in this class. I had reached for my wand so I could begin cleaning up, but saw that Janice had already done so. Our tabletop was spotless, so I just sat back and waited for my exam. I watched as Snape flew past me and headed to the back of the class. I heard the sound of parchment being slapped onto a table, followed by a groaning sound that had to have come from Gary Haslow, a Ravenclaw in our year. Poor guy. I remember him studying manically for this exam. He's absolutely brilliant, but he's got the weakest nerves and gets intimidated by Snape very easily. He knows his potions really well, but he _always_ gets nervous when we have exams in this class. He really needs to buck up and learn to stay cool, otherwise he'll never get higher than an 'E' in here...

Snape walked past me again with his stack of tests, his robes billowing out behind him, as always. I sometimes wonder how he gets his clothes to act like that. I mean, it really adds a dramatic effect...makes him look powerful, and a bit dangerous too...Hmm...I bet he does it on purpose. I couldn't help but grin as I pictured Snape practicing his "billowing-effect" in front of a mirror, trying to get his robes to flap out in all the right places. I wonder how he'd react if I asked him how he gets his robes to billow... I'm very tempted to ask. Maybe I should save it for when I have detention with him. I'm bound to get one with him this year anyway for something or the other...

I barely noticed when Snape dropped my exam in front of me. I was a bit occupied with observing Oliver, who had just gotten his own test back. It was hard to read his expression. He looked neither pleased nor disappointed. Perhaps he had gotten what he had expected. But what grade would that be? I don't know how high or low his standards are...probably not very high, since he doesn't care much for school except for his precious quidditch. But then again, he's in several advanced classes which would indicate that he does care somewhat about doing well in school.

"Hennessey!"

I fell out of my reverie and looked up, only to come face to face with a rather annoyed looking Snape.

"While you were busy ogling and daydreaming about Mr. Wood, the rest of the class has left. Do take your exam and get out of here. I have another class in a few minutes." He said, looking at me rather scathingly. Too startled to come up with a reply, I picked up my exam, flung by bag over my shoulder, and hurried out. Geez. That man really sees all...

* * *

Ok seriously, why...I mean, _why_ the bloody hell is Snape a teacher? The man is cruel! He does not like kids. He does not care to enrich our minds, and he does not care to see us happy. And it doesn't help that he's not exactly pleasing to the eye either. (I mean it wouldn't kill him to shower a few times a week--this isn't the 19th century, you know!) I'm sitting in my defense against the dark arts class, and I just passed Denise a note to tell her that I got a 'Poor' on my potions exam. She's always the first person I come to when something happens. She's glad when something good has happened to me, and bitter when I'm upset. I swear, I love her to death. I kind of wish sometimes that we were both lesbians. We'd be so happy together. But alas, we're both boy-crazy heterosexuals. I just hope whoever she ends up with is deserving of her. Anyway...oooh, she's passed me a note back! I made sure Professor Lupin wasn't looking, and quickly unfolded her note, pressing it down on the notes I was taking for class.

_But you studied so hard for that exam, didn't you? Snape's such a horrible man! Though not horrible enough that he ought to be stuck in a tank full of jellyfish and then be thrown to a pack of hungry werewolves as you suggested, but still, he's pretty bad. Well here's a bit of silver lining though to your cloud. Guess who I heard got an 'O' on that exam? Oliver Wood!_

What? You're kidding me...Oliver...an 'O'? But Snape rarely ever gave 'O's...and the only one who ever got them regularly was Percy Weasley. And Oliver didn't even look particularly ecstatic or anything when he got his paper back. I grabbed my quill and wrote to Denise telling her of the observation I had made. I was about to fold up the note and pass it her way, when I remembered that this was all supposed to be a good thing in Denise's book. So I dipped my quill in my bottle of ink once more and scribbled down another line:

_By the way, how the hell is Oliver getting an 'O' supposed to be a silver lining? I mean, good for him...but how is that good for me?_

I folded the note twice over and waited for Professor Lupin to turn his attention away from the class. The opportunity arose when Percy raised his hand from across the room to ask a question, and Lupin turned his full attention to him. I lightly tossed the note onto her desk, and quickly glanced over at Lupin, fearing that he might've heard. But he didn't seem to acknowledge my movements and continued his discussion of occlumency with the class. I tapped my quill compulsively against my notes, waiting for Denise's reply. I suppose I might as well may attention to what Lupin is saying while I wait...

"So for tomorrow, make sure you have your essays ready to turn in, and that you've practiced a bit of occlumency with one another. That way tomorrow, you all will have sufficient background to at least attempt in defending yourselves when I perform legilimency on you"--

"You're going to _what_?"

Oh crap. Did I say that out loud? Nice, Suzie. Very nice. Several students sniggered, and I could hear Denise sigh warily next to me. Professor Lupin cocked an eyebrow at me. He didn't look angry, but he didn't look particularly amused either. Oh, I don't think I'm ever going to be in his good books...

"Perform legilimency on you all, Suzie, as I said at the beginning of class." He said.

"But...but didn't you say a couple of weeks ago that it's dark magic?" I asked. I'm imagining Lupin reading into my mind...not a happy thought.

"Yes, well, borderline dark magic. But you needn't worry. I do respect your privacy, and if I could teach you all occlumency any other way, without delving into your minds, I would. But unfortunately there isn't. So I will be taking care to only hold you all under the spell for a few seconds--just long enough for you to get a taste of how it feels to have your mind invaded. Plus, the first memories that are reached are usually blurry, so rest assured, your privacy will be protected." Lupin replied, now smiling reassuringly. Mmm...pretty smile...I wish I could take a picture. What? They last longer...

As Lupin turned his back on me and began to write our assignments on the board, a folded piece of parchment landed on my desk. I glanced over at Denise, who was busy scribbling away Professor Lupin's words and pretending not to notice me. She's very good, that Denise. I looked up shortly at Lupin to make sure he wasn't watching before I opened Denise's note.

_Honestly, Suzie! You're usually two steps ahead of me when it comes to man-hunting! Oh dear, why did you have to blurt that out in class? You make it so obvious that you're not paying attention sometimes...Hmm...Professor Lupin looks a little strained. I reckon he's a getting tired of repeating things to you...perhaps you ought to pay more attention in class...it'll do you some good. And I know, it's partly my fault! I shouldn't distract you with notes...so I'll stop doing that. Lupin's the sweetest professor next to Flitwick and Sprout...oh and Madam Pomfrey...she's so kind! Er, right...Lupin, sorry...yeah, he's really nice, and I'd hate to see him not like you, because you're a wonderful person too, and you guys would get along very well. So just pay more attention in here, alright? Starting tomorrow though, because I need to finish this note. Oh yeah, Oliver...so I was thinking him getting a good grade was in your favour because now maybe you can go to him for tutoring! It's the perfect excuse! I mean, if you can swallow your pride and tell him your grade...he'll take pity on you and agree to help you. And then you guys would spend hours alone, pouring over books together...that'll get you guys closer. Aww, so romantic! What do you think? I think it'll work--my grandmother actually made this suggestion to me over the summer because she was surprised to hear me say that I've only had one boyfriend in all my years here at Hogwarts. Said I ought to try going up to a guy I like and pretend to need help with homework or something. Apparently that's how she got grandpa. Makes me shudder. But that's because they're old and related to me. You're young and my best friend, so I don't see anything gross about you doing it. Ok, class is almost over so I feel like this whole note is pointless...I'll just wrap it up here then and talk to you after class._

I almost sniggered at the thought of Denise's grandmother flirting with her husband. That seemed very much like her, making up excuses to talk to men. Hell, she still did it, even though she's been married for forty years or something. As much as I hate to admit it though, I think that's sort of a good idea. A damsel in distress. I've always wanted to play that role...

I crumbled up the scrap of parchment and shoved it into my pocket before proceeding to pack my things. Denise was already up and waiting for me, so I tried to hurry up. I glanced up at Professor Lupin, who had just waved his wand at the blackboard, wiping it clean. I suddenly felt a pang of guilt. He _was_ a nice professor. And I do have a bad habit of not paying attention in this class, which he's undoubtedly picked up on. Yet he hasn't told me off once, or taken away points or given me a detention. And it's not just me. He's nice to everyone. He's hardly taken away points from any of the houses, and from what I've heard, the only detention he's given so far this year was to Fred Weasley, whom Lupin had caught setting off dungbombs outside Snape's office. And apparently he was just given lines. Now if Lupin's not a sweetheart, I don't know who is. I suppose not paying attention in his class is a bit disrespectful. Sigh. I think an apology is in order...

"Denise"--

Denise looked from me to Professor Lupin. We had called on her at the same time and she seemed to be in two minds as to who she should tend to first.

"Go ahead." Lupin and I said at once, gesturing for Denise to speak to the other.

"Er..." Denise glanced at each of us again, looking rather uncertain, before she decided to pick Lupin over me. Understandable; he is the one who hands out grades at the end of term...

"Oh, I was just going to ask you to not wait for Suzie. I needed to speak to her." He said.

"Oh!" Denise and I said at once. Was I in trouble? Denise seemed to be thinking along the same lines as me, as she slowly nodded her head and went towards the door, glancing over her shoulder to give me a worried look. When the door closed and we were alone, Lupin turned to me and smiled.

"I'm sorry to send her off like that, but"--

"Oh no, it's alright! I was actually about to tell her the same thing! I wanted a word with you myself..." I replied, grinning, but my smile immediately fell when I realized I had interrupted my professor. Gosh, mum's right. I can be such an ill-mannered dimwit sometimes... "Er--sorry, you were saying something?" I asked apologetically.

Lupin smiled. "Er, yes... I wanted to have a quick word with you about your performance in this class, actually..."

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Performance?" I thought I had been doing well. I didn't say that to him, figuring that would sound a bit cocky of me...

"Yes," Lupin said again, still smiling. "Don't get me wrong, you're doing excellent in your homework and exams...but as far as participation goes"--

"But participation isn't for a grade, is it?" I blurted. Damn. Did it again. "Er--sorry, sir..." I added hastily.

Lupin didn't seem to be offended in the least by my interruptions. "No, it's not for a grade, but I still do expect some particiaption from my students, especially since I tend to give house points for answering questions correctly. But you never answer or even ask questions in class"--

"I'm not an inquisitive person..." I replied.

"...and you spend a great deal of time passing notes to Miss Denise." he said, smiling wryly. Oh crap. He saw that? "Yes, Suzie, I always notice when you two pass notes." he added, as if reading my mind. I could feel myself turning red. Not so much from embarrassment, but more so from guilt. If this were Professor Snape, I'd probably be hanging from my thumbs in the dungeons or suffering some other equally sadistic punishment right now.

"Right..." I said slowly, looking at the floor. Gosh, how can I look at him? I swear, if anyone ever wants to make me feel guilty about something, just send over Professor Lupin to talk to me... "About that...that was actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Really?" Lupin asked, raising an eyebrow at me. Hmph. He looks a bit skeptical. I'm a little more able to look at him directly now.

"Yes...Denise was sort of scolding me in her note to me for not paying enough attention in this class...and she's right...and I feel so guilty!" I stammered, trying not to sound too pathetically dramatic. I really do feel bad, but I have to admit, I'm playing up my emotions a little for a better effect. "I'm sorry...I'm sure you probably think I'm an annoying brat...rightly so, but I honestly don't mean to be...I mean, this is by far my favorite class--I've learned so much, you know--I should treat it--and you, of course--with more respect. Don't worry, I promise I'll be more attentive from now on." I said brightly and in one breath. Just as I had hoped, Professor Lupin laughed.

"I'll take your word for it then." he replied. "I certainly do hope you plan on participating more. Judging by your homework, you seem to have an excellent grasp on defense magic and have...well...interesting ideas." he added rather hesitantly.

I sniggered. "Did you read my last essay then?"

Lupin nodded. "I did. I have a few more papers to grade and should probably be ready to hand them back tomorrow. But I did read yours. Duly noted your casual slip-in of what you think defense against the dark arts should branch out to."

I like his play of words. Does all he can to avoid the S-word, it seems. Or rather, any word related to the S-word. "Well, what do you think then?" I asked, very aware that this might qualify as what my dad would call "stepping a toe out of line." As Lupin made his way back to his desk to collect his paperwork, I could tell he had stiffened slightly. I'm not sure why, but seeing that made me feel somewhat triumphant.

"What do I think?" he repeated, not looking up from his papers. "Well...er...interesting, to say the least. I don't think I've heard anyone theorize that _seduction_ was a perfectly acceptable method of defense against the dark arts."

Oh, he said it! Ok, don't laugh. There's really no need to be immature about all this... "So I'm the first one?" I asked in a very forced, even voice.

"Yes, I think so. To my knowledge anyway." he replied, shutting his briefcase and finally looking up at me. "Do you plan on writing a grand old thesis paper on the subject then?"

I laughed. "No, I don't think so. It's just a random thought I had once, and I thought of it again when I was writing your paper. But I mean, what do you think? Does it make sense?"

"Seduction as a means of defense?" Lupin asked. I nodded, trying not to smile as I watched the pink spread up his neck. "Well, you mentioned it briefly, and I didn't think much of it...I got a laugh out of it when I read it, I'll admit, but I didn't really consider it. But I suppose...maybe...it _could _be used..."

"Really? So I'm right?" I asked hopefully.

Lupin shrugged. "I think with some people, yes, it could be. But it's definitely limited. I don't think a wizard like Lord Voldemort, for example, could ever be seduced for anything."

I wasn't sure if I wanted to laugh or cry. Did he just say you-know-who's name? Out loud? Is he mad? The only other people I know who say his name is Dumbledore and that kid, Harry Potter. No one else. I said it once when I was little on a dare from my older sister, and I got such an ass-whooping from my mum. But that's it. More over though, are we actually talking about this? Oh God, I think I might just snort. Ok, control. You do not snort in front of teachers.

"True." I replied. "But it is a tactic that can be used?"

"I suppose..." he said slowly, looking at me cautiously, as if he were afraid that I might strip naked on the spot and try to seduce him or something.

Hmm, I'm feeling lucky today. "So...are we were going to learn about it in class?" I asked.

I think I've gone to far. The pink has officially reached his cheeks. It's a very subtle, delicate shade of pink, but it's very much there, burning him thoroughly, I'm sure. "No..." he said at last, smiling slighlty. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea. I don't think I even want to begin imagining how we would teach that topic."

I opened my mouth to reply, but Lupin seemed to know that I had a suggestion coming, and immediately added, "And I'm fairly certain that a topic like that would not be particularly well received by the other staff. Probably best to leave it alone."

I frowned. Well, he didn't flip out on me as I thought he might, but still, he was heading towards the door, which was a clear implication that I should be on my way now as well. No fun. I like talking to people about inappropriate subjects...

"So tell me," Lupin said as he held the door open for me, "do you read many romance novels or something?"

I laughed, as did he. "Why would you ask me that?"

He shrugged. "Just wondering where you get your ideas from."

I laughed again. "No, I don't read romance novels. I came up with that idea of seduction as a method of defense all on my own." I said with a note of pride in my voice. I could tell Lupin was trying not to laugh.

"Well, good for you...I think." he replied. "I mean, on the originality part. Though I'm still not sure I understand the method to your madness completely..."

"Oh, let me explain"--I started, but Lupin cut me off.

"Another day, perhaps. Right now I've got to go see Professor Snape about some things."

"Oh, alright. But I'm holding you to your word then." I replied.

"Sounds good." He said, and smiling he added, "I have no idea what I'm getting myself into, but sure. We'll talk about it later."

"Cool. See you later then, sir!" I said as Lupin bid me goodbye and turned in the opposite direction as me to head towards Snape's office. I couldn't help but sigh as I made my way back to the Hufflepuff common room. Who cares about some stupid Oliver Wood? I've got the wonderful, genius Remus Lupin...


	4. Sirius Black

A/N: I know this chapter's a big fat one...but deal. You know you like 'em big. ;) Ah, Suzie's spirit channels through me. Or perhaps vice versa. :P

Chapter 4: Sirius Black

"Hennessey, would you stop tapping your quill against the desk? It's quite annoying!"

My hand immediately froze and I shrunk back in my seat. God. McGonagall is so cool, yet so scary when she singles you out in class...

"Sorry, Professor." I said quickly. She simply nodded and turned her attention back to the class to lecture us on...er...something... I forget what we're doing nowadays...human transfigurations, I think. Hey, it's hard keeping up, alright? This is Advanced Transfiguration. That's right. _Advanced_. And guess which slut-who-wishes-she-could-have-my-Oliver isn't in this class? So nice...

"Hennessey!"

Woops. Damn my involuntary movements. I dropped my quill onto my desk so as to prevent the temptation altogether. But apparently this didn't satisfy McGonagall. She was glaring at me. Ugh. I'm so glad I'm not a Gryffindor. Professor Sprout might give long boring lectures when you get into trouble, but she's the nicest professor in the whole school. Oh, well her and Flitwick. I suppose I wouldn't mind being a Ravenclaw either then. Oh but Professor Lupin is sweet too, but he's not the head of any house. He should be though. He's so...sweet. And smart. And cute...and so fair. He gave me an E on that essay I wrote, the one where I casually mentioned seduction as a defense technique that should be explored. I thought I was going to get an 'Acceptable'--I didn't work very hard on that paper...just threw some crap together...now if only all professors could grade like Lupin. Ay, Snape could take a leaf out of his book...I'm doing miserable in potions. So miserable in fact, that I've taken up on Denise's idea of soliciting help from Oliver Wood. I mean, aside from the fact that I want to spend hours alone with Oliver, I really do need help. My parents will not be pleased if I get a P in that class, especially when I've worked by bum off to get into the advanced level...

And this most conveniently brings me to the reason for my incessant quill-tapping that McGonagall seems to hate. I asked Oliver--alright, asked isn't the right word--I pleaded with him to tutor me in potions yesterday. First he laughed, because he didn't believe I needed help in any subjects, but then I showed him my exam paper and he pulled a pretty sympathetic look. It looked almost genuine, actually. But he said he couldn't tutor me because he was "busy". Had things to do and people to see, he said. I asked if he meant the other way around, which caused him to turn a very cute shade of pink. I love embarrassing people. Especially boys. They're so cute when they turn pink! Anyway, a few more suggestive comments later, I finally got him to agree to one-hour tutoring sessions once a week. The price? I told him I had an uncle who owned Quality Quidditch Supplies over in Diagon Alley who would let him buy a Firebolt for 50 off the retail price if he came with me to the shop. Oliver flipped. He actually hugged me. Oh, the memory actually gives me goosebumps... Anyway, our first session is tomorrow night. I feel giddy. And McGonagall is glaring at me again. Oh! Everyone's leaving--class must be finished...

* * *

"Suzie, I hate to break it to you, but this is a study session, not a date."

I glared at Denise. She wasn't nearly as thrilled about tonight's tutoring session as I was. She thinks I'm over-excited. Like hell I am. Just because I haven't dropped the subject yet since dinner started ten minutes ago, doesn't mean I'm over-excited. Anyway, even if I am, I'm quite justified. I mean, this is a major breakthrough in the saga of Suzie and Oliver's life together!

"I _know_ it's not a date..." I replied coolly as I rolled one of my potatoes across my plate with a fork.

"Then why are you so nervous?" she asked.

"I'm not _so_ nervous. Just...you know, jitters..."

"You haven't even eaten yet, you've just been rolling potatoes around your plate for the past ten minutes, Suzie! I think that constitutes as a little more than jittery. You're scared out of your pants, aren't you?"

Damn Denise the know-it-all. This is why all professors love her. (Except Snape, but he doesn't count because he doesn't like people in general). She knows everything and notices everything.

"Relax Suzie," she said as she pat me on the shoulder. "You guys are just studying! I don't know why you're making such a big deal about this--you never get all fluttery over boys--not even Oliver!"

"Shh!" I hissed a more hostile than I had meant to. "Say it a bit louder, why don't you...let the whole school know I like him!"

"Who do you like?"

Denise adn I jumped, and in doing so I managed to spill a bit of pumpkin juice on the table. We turned around and found Oliver standing over us, smiling that gorgeous smile. Only I couldn't swoon over it right now--I was feeling a bit too embarrassed with myself to trace the lovely curves of his mouth with my eyes...

"No one!" Denise and I said in unison. Once again, I love Denise. She really takes that maxim "Treat others as you'd like to be treated" seriously. She protects my dignity as if it were her own. Oh, why can't boys be made that way?

"Er--right." Oliver replied, looking from Denise to me. "Listen, want to meet me on the second floor of the library, at those tables near the restricted section? It's quiet there and we'll be able to get some good studying done there."

"Cool, sounds good." I replied, congratulating myself at being able to keep my voice even and casual.

"Alright--so whenever you're done." Oliver said, eyeing my plate of untouched dinner wearily. And without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and left.

"Well, you heard him!" Denise said, "Whenever you're done. You haven't even started yet, so get a move on! Eat!"

But I had already gotten up and was about to lean forward to grab my bookbag, when Denise pulled me down again.

"Eat now!"

"I don't want to!"

Denise sighed and looked at me exasperatedly. "If you don't eat now, your stomach will rumble really loudly in front of Oliver..."

"Good point. I'll eat." I said, taking a forkful of potatoes and shoving it into my mouth.

* * *

I wonder if twenty minutes is too long of a wait. I didn't really need second helpings _or_ the dessert...but the treacle tart was calling my name! And so was all the candy corn! I couldn't help it. Well, at least my stomach won't rumble in front of Oliver--that is if he's still in the library... I know little about Oliver's personality, but one thing I do know is that he's not a very patient person. As I headed down the corridor that led to the library, I couldn't help but picture a cross-looking Oliver waiting for me in the library, ready to go off on me on my late arrival...

Oh, yes. He does look a bit cross. I've just reached the second floor of the library and there's Oliver, sitting at the table all the way off to the corner, glancing at his watch. Hmm..ok. I should apologize. Maybe look cute or something...

Oliver looked up and our eyes met. I waved to him. Huh. He's not waving back. Yeah, I suppose twenty minutes _was_ a long wait. I smiled at him, hoping I looked cute enough that he'd forget about my tardiness and instead marvel at my beauty. Damn. No such luck. He's not smiling back.

"Hey--sorry I took so long!" I said as I finally reached his table. "Denise just wouldn't let me go until I finished my food, and"--

"Is Denise your caretaker or something?" Oliver asked, cocking an eyebrow at me as he conjured up a chair and held it out for me. Normally I find the eyebrow-cocking thing to be quite sexy, but right now I'm a bit annoyed and can't bother with giving it a second thought. Ok, the image is permanently lodged in the back of my brain forever more, but that's neither here nor there. Why the hell is he acting smart with me? Though I suppose it's not really acting, he _is _pretty smart...

"Er--Suzie?"

"No, she's not my caretaker," I snapped as I took a seat next to him. "she's just that kind of person...who uh...likes to take care of people."

"Uh huh"--

"Because she's _caring_..."

He's doing the eyebrow-cocking again. He has such nice eyebrows. I wonder if he has to tweeze them...

"Want to get started?"

"Huh? Oh--right!" I pulled my gaze away from his eyebrows and turned my attention to getting my books out. "Yes, let's study...make me smart!"

Oliver chuckled lightly. "Fine. But you should know, I'm not a miracle worker...ow!"

I smiled with satisfaction as Oliver rubbed his arm in the spot I had pinched him. I hope he insults me some more tonight. Hitting him is such a perfect excuse to touch him!

"I was just kidding, woman." Oliver said as he pulled a few books out of his own bag and placed them in front of us. "You're already smart."

"Do you really think so?" I asked, digging into my bag for a quill so I wouldn't have to look at him.

"Of course...why else do you think I was surprised when you told me you were failing potions?"

"Hey, I'm not failing potions...I just failed the first exam..." I snapped. I'm not sure why I snapped--I really could care less about my grade in potions...

Oliver laughed. "That first exam is the only grade we have in that class right now. So if you failed it, you're currently failing the class."

"Fine, genius. I'm failing the class. Happy? Now, teach me."

Oliver glanced sideways at me and smiled as he opened our potions textbook to the fourth chapter. "Since I'm the teacher tonight, I'll be giving the commands here. Understood?"

"Fine. Shall I call you Professor Wood then?" I asked.

He smiled humorlessly at me. "No. And no more jokes. You wanted one hour of studying and I'm going to give it to you. But you better be serious. I've got other things to do, you know."

"You're boring."

"Shall I arrange for Percy to tutor you instead?"

"That's cruel. Why would you do that to me?"

"Shut up. We're starting."

And I shut up. And we started. Another thing to add to the ongoing list of things I love about Oliver. He exerts authority. How sexy is that? I mean, I was just messing around, and he put his foot down, and set straight to business. And he's like that on the quidditch pitch too. No wonder he was made captain in his fourth year. I wonder where else he exerts authority...

* * *

"Suzie, are you listening?"

"Of course I am!" I said, sitting up straight in my seat.

"What did I just say?"

"Er--well, you were talking about...um..."

"Yes?"

I bit my lip and glanced down at his textbook. Properties of wormwood. Funny. I don't remember hearing him mention that...

"Wormwood?"

Oliver sighed. "Ok. And what about wormwood?"

"Isn't it used in wine and stuff?"

He sighed again and looked dismally out the window. I took the opportunity to scan the brief section on wormwood. Oooh...

"Oh, and it's used in the draught of living death too, isn't it?" I asked casually.

"Ok...yes, it is." Oliver said with a look of relief in his eyes as he turned back to the book to look for more things to ask me about. He then glanced at his watch, and sighed as he looked up at me, smiling slightly for the first time tonight. "Well, it's been an hour. I've got to get going."

"Oh, ok..."

I watched as Oliver began to pack his things. This is somewhat depressing. Oliver seems glad to be done with me, and I don't feel much smarter in potions than I did before this tutoring session.

"So...same time next week?" I asked as I got up with Oliver and followed him out of the library.

"Er...sure. If you want. Do you really feel like you're benefiting from this though?" he asked, looking at me somewhat skeptically. What the hell...he's doubting my intelligence! Ok fine, I'm not exactly benefiting potions-wise right now, but I'm sure I'll get there...It's just a matter of paying attention to him...well, to his words anyway...

"Well, to be honest," I started slowly, "I don't think I benefited a whole lot for today's session...and I'm sorry if I wasted your time in that sense...but I was just a bit distracted tonight."

"Yeah, I could tell." was his reply.

"Really?"

"You were staring off into space most of the time. But you always seem to do that, even in class..."

"Yeah, I do that a lot..." I said with a laugh. More of a giggle. I couldn't help it. He actually paid attention to me in class! That certainly calls for a little flirtateous giggling. But he didn't seem amused. On the contrary, he was frowning slightly.

"So how am I going to be any help to you, Suzie? All you probably need to do it pay attention in potions and I'm sure you'll do fine..."

"But I've tried paying attention! It's too hard!" I replied a bit loudly. My voice was echoeing through the halls. I lowered my voice slightly. "Snape is so dull and...and...and condescending! It's so hard to follow him sometimes in class, he makes everything sound so much more complicated than it really is..."

Oliver sighed as we held onto the railings of the staircase when it began to shift. "This is true...but what about me? You weren't really paying attention to me either...I must not be explaining it well enough for you then either..."

"No, no...you are! I mean, the times when I snapped into my senses and paid attention to you, I understood stuff...It's just today was a bad day to study, that's all. I was distracted."

"By what?"

"By you, you stud."

Oliver laughed. Ah, if only he knew I wasn't kidding. "Well, I need to get going. Need some sleep."

I looked at my watch. It was only nine o'clock! What kind of loser was he? I figured it'd be a bit rude to voice my opinion, but did so anyway, which caused Oliver to glare at me.

"Well, I have to sleep early if I'm going to get up early." he replied curtly.

"Why do you have to get up early?"

"Quidditch practice."

"Really? What time?"

Oliver opened his mouth, but then shut it immediately and grinned at me. "Oh no, I don't think so. You're not getting the time out of me."

I was about to ask him if he was off his rocker or something, but then I remembered I was a Hufflepuff and he was a psycho quidditch-obsessed Gryffindor. I rolled my eyes at him. "Oliver, I was just asking for the sake of conversation. If you thought I was going to come and take pictures to show Cedric all of your moves, you are very much mistaken."

Oliver smiled. "You don't really seem like the type to turn spy, I'll admit. But I'm not taking any chances. We've got practice early in the morning and that's all I'll say. Which reminds me, I need to see to the team, make sure they all get to bed too..."

I couldn't help but laugh. He was such an idiot. A sexy idiot, but an idiot all the same. "Fine. Go to bed. We'll meet same time and place next week." I said.

"Unless you're feeling particularly distracted or something..." Oliver warned me. "Night..."

I bid him farewell at the top of the bottom of the staircase, and then we went our separate ways. Great. Now I have to make sure that by next week I'm able to sit through an entire hour of potions tutoring with Oliver Wood and actually pay attention to what he's teaching me.

Oh, the lengths a girl has to go to get a guy! If only I could tell him bluntly that I liked him and wanted to go out with him...and today would have been perfect! It was Halloween...and a Hogsmeade weekend! We could've gone to Three Broomsticks together or something and sipped on butterbeers while we talked and laughed the afternoon away, and then come back to the lovely Halloween feast in the evening. Instead, I spend my day in the dormitory with Denise. We painted our nails, did some homework, and then spent an hour debating over whether or not Professor Snape deserved to have a love life, followed by another hour of me trying to get Denise to understand why Professor Lupin was so damn attractive. At one point I wanted to go to Hogsmeade to get that pushup bra I had made a mental note to get ages ago, but Denise talked me out of it, saying that everyone would notice the sudden size change and would immediately recognize the fake bust. That had been my day. It was fun, but I could've been with Oliver. If only I had more guts to ask him out. People say they don't understand me. Well, I've got news for the people of the world. I don't understand myself half the time either. I don't understand how it's so easy for me to say the most suggestive things to Oliver, yet I can't even stand there and seriously tell him that I fancy him. I wonder if other girls have this problem. I know Denise doesn't. If she likes a guy, they somehow become automatically attracted to her and they ask her out within a couple weeks' time. Understandable though. She's so damn cute. I mean, I just want to put her in my pocket sometimes...she's _that_ cute...

As I rounded the corner, I ran right into something. Well, someone. Someone very small--a first year, I'm guessing. I pulled away and looked down, expecting to find some timid little kid looking up at me, but instead I met a torso. A man's torso by the looks of it. I shifted my gaze upward, and realized that it was not in fact a tiny little first year, but Professor Lupin. My, he was thin!

"Woops, sorry sir"--

"Suzie! What are you doing out here?" He asked. He looked very tense.

"Uh--coming from the library! Why? It's not after hours"--

"Oh, God. Let's get you out of here..." he muttered, and without further explanation, he took my hand and led me down the hall. For a thin, frail looking man, he was quite spritely in his movements. I had to run to keep up with him. We hurried down one staircase, and then another... Where were we going?

"Sir..."

"We need to get you down to the Great Hall immediately." He said, answering my question before I could really begin asking it.

"But why?" I asked. I could feel the beating in my heart accelerate as we hurried down an empty corridor. It suddenly occurred to me that it was quite noisy here. I glanced around and saw that the commotion was coming from the portraits lined up along the walls. They were talking loudly amongst themselves while others were shouting or crying. What the hell was going on here?

"Sirius Black...he's in the castle..."

"What?"

We stopped in front of the Great Hall. Lupin pulled one of the doors open for me and asked me to go in.

"But"--

"Just go in and wait there, Suzie. I think the headmaster will be coming in shortly to fill you all in..."

"But how'd he get in here? Are you sure he's here?"

"Suzie, just wait inside. I have to go and help search the castle." Lupin said, ushering me through the threshold of the great hall.

"What? That's dangerous! What if you run into him? He might"--

"I'll be fine, Suzie. Thanks." he said, cutting me off. His mouth twitched slightly into what might have become a smile, but I never saw. he turned around and left. I suddenly felt a bit stupid. Did I just show all that concern for his safety? In front of him? Oh boy, he probably thinks I like him now. Oh wait, I do. But still...he's not supposed to know that.

"Suzie!"

I turned around and found Denise running towards me.

"Denise--oof!" I grunted as she through her arms around me.

"Oh, God! You're ok!"

"Of course I'm ok!"

"It all happened so fast, and I was in our common room, and Professor Sprout came in and rushed us all out! And I told her you were in the library studying with Oliver...and she said Madam Pince would evacuate all the students in the library, but Oliver came with the other Gryffindors, and he said you had already gone to our common room..and I was so worried!"

"Denise, shut up!" I said, trying very hard not to laugh, but failing miserably as I pulled away from her. "I'm ok!"

"Course you're ok! I can see that! But I was so worried, I thought Sirius"--

"Hold on," I said, cutting her off. "How did Sirius Black get in here? This place is supposed to be all safe and secure! And is anyone hurt?"

Denise shook her head. "Just the Fat Lady..."

"The who?"

"The portrait that guards the Gryffindor common room..." Denise replied.

"She got hurt? How?"

Denise shrugged. "I don't know. But from what I heard, it seems like he was trying to get to the Gryffindor common room."

"Why?"

Denise shrugged again. "Well, he _is_ a bit supporter of You-Know-Who, and Harry Potter _is _in Gryffindor..."

"You think he's out to get Harry?" I asked. I felt chills going down my spine. He was just a kid... Sirius Black had to be mad to want to kill a kid...

"Who knows. I haven't even gotten the full story. I just heard that the Fat Lady had disappeared from her portrait because Sirius attacked her. There might be more to it than that..."

"We should ask some Gryffindor maybe..." I said, glancing around the great hall for a Gryffindor face. There was Alicia Spinnet, who was sitting in a corner talking to some other Gryffindor...Angelina was her name, I think. There was Percy Weasley standing near the door, seemingly on guard duty, but I don't think he'd tell us if he knew anything. Top secret's what he'd probably say...

"Oliver!"

I whirled around to see Denise waving at someone across the room. She was calling Oliver. He in turn nodded his head at her in acknowledgement of her call, and began to walk towards us. Oh, Denise. You clever girl...

"Hey, you're alright!" he said, smiling at me. Did he just say that? Did Oliver Wood just ask if I was alright? Well, exclaim that I was alright...same thing...

"Yeah, I'm fine..." I replied, smiling but trying to look casual at the same time.

"Good. Denise here got a bit _shirty_ with me just because I didn't know your whereabouts..."

I cast a glance at Denise, who look gave me a fleeting look before turning to Oliver. "Well, you should've walked her to her common room! You don't leave a girl in the middle of a corridor! Especially when there's a killer on the loose!" she said.

"How was I supposed to know he had gotten into the castle?" Oliver snapped back. He then turned to me and forced a smile. "I'll be sure to walk you back to your common room next time. Don't want your mum over here to fuss..."

I laughed, mainly because I wasn't sure what else to do. I wasn't quite sute how to feel about Denise's behavior either. On the one hand it seemed nice because her fussing might have brought Oliver and me closer. But on the other hand it might have driven Oliver further away from me...so it's a hard one to call, really...

"Listen, do you know what happened?" Denise asked Oliver. "All I heard was that the Fat Lady escaped from her portrait...Sirius tried attacking her or something?"

Oliver nodded. "When I got back to our common room, there was a huge crowd around it. No one could get in because the Fat Lady disappeared. When we finally did find her, she said Sirius Black had come to her and demanded entrance into the common room, but she wouldn't let him in because he didn't have the password...so he had a fit and slashed her portrait."

Denise gasped. "That's terrible!"

Oliver shrugged. "She was a terrible singer...ow!" I bit my lip as Oliver glared at Denise. "You Hufflepuffs are supposed to be nice! Why do you all keep hitting me?"

"That wasn't nice!" Denise said. "The poor woman..."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "She didn't really get hurt. Her portrait got damaged, that's all."

"But she must be traumatized!" Denise replied. I turned my head away so Denise couldn't see my large grin. How she had the capacity to feel sorry for portraits was beyond me...

"She's not alive, you know...she's just...a portrait." Oliver said.

I opened my mouth to respond, but just then Professor Dumbledore entered the great hall. It's amazing what his presence can do. The entire hall fell silent and turned to him. It's even more amazing what his words can do. They're so...reassuring. And soothing. And I think most people would share this view. As Dumbledore finished off by telling us that we would all be staying the night in the great hall and magicking a bunch of sleeping bags into the hall, everyone immediately began to carry on with business as if everything were alright. Sure, he did say that the entire castle had been searched and there was no sign of Black, but we were certainly not out of danger. Yet it felt safe for the time being, all because Dumbledore had come and told us we could sleep. And since he said it, we'd all be able to sleep soundly. Gosh, he's powerful. Man, if he were fifty or sixty years younger...

* * *

"Can you believe that Black?" Denise hissed at me when the lights had gone out and we were all in our sleeping bags. "He must be extremely powerful to break through all the safety barriers that protect Hogwarts!"

"Scary..." I replied. I glanced up and saw that Snape was walking by, glancing down at the students to see if they were sleeping. Ooh...and he was walking with Dumbledore! I smiled inwardly as I yawned, pulling my arms out from inside the sleeping bag to stretch them. I closed my eyes as I felt Snape and Dumbledore approach, and stretched my arms overhead as far as I could. Any second now...

I felt fabric brush over my arm. I opened my eyes slightly and glanced up. Snape had walked right over my arms. Damn. I was hoping he'd trip over them. He really does see all...

"God, I really hope they capture him soon!" Denise whispered, clearly not ready to drop the subject of Sirius Black. I rolled onto my stomach and turned to her. She looked positively frightened.

"I'm sure they will..."

"He was the first person to ever escape from Azkaban, Suzie! And I'm betting he's the first person to break into Hogwarts!"

I didn't reply to this. She was probably right about that. I kept picturing Sirius's face--not the picture they always show in the Daily Prophet, but the ones I saw in the cubicle of that very good-looking ministry official. I wonder what Sirius was like as a kid. As someone my age. Clearly, very good looking. I wonder if he had shown any evil tendencies as a student...if anyone had seen him and thought, _well, he's definitely going to be a death eater_... I mean, I certainly never think that when I see someone so good-looking.

"Such a nice body gone to waste..."

Did I just say that out loud? I glanced sideways to see Denise looking at me--quite confused I might add.

"Who? Sirius Black?" she hissed.

I shrank slightly into my bag. "What? I thought he was good looking!"

"Suzie, he's a criminal!"

"I know! That doesn't stop him from being gorgeous though!"

Denise looked squarely at me. "You didn't help him get into the castle, did you?"

I gaped at her. Was she kidding? "Of course not! Don't be stupid! I said he was good-looking, not a good person!"

I could see Denise rolling her eyes at me as she sank into her sleeping bag. "Only you would find such a horrid man attractive..."

"I meant his younger self! I was at the ministry once with dad and I saw his younger pictures...he was hot, Denise..."

"You never cease to amaze me, dear."

"Thank you."

"One thing that always worries me, Suzie. Some really hot death eater coming to seduce you into joining the dark side..."

"Like Lucius Malfoy?" I suggested, grinning at her. She made a funny sound that sounded like a hiss. What? The man was nice to look at! Doesn't mean I want to marry him...

"I'm kidding, you know..." I added. "Anyway, I don't know how you think I could be seduced into becoming a dark witch. If anything, I would be the one seducing dark wizards into becoming good!"

Denise sniggered, and as I closed my eyes to get some rest, I thought back to my brief discussion with Professor Lupin about seduction, and soon found myself drifting off to sleep with strange dreams of me becoming a prestigous auror, famous for her techniques in the field of seduction...


	5. Harry Potter

Chapter Five: Harry Potter

* * *

"Suzie, it's nothing personal!" 

"Yeah, sure."

Denise rolled her eyes at me before turning back to her dinner. "It's not! You're reading too much into this...I don't know why...it's Oliver...he's pretty straightforward."

I made a face at Denise as she turned away from me before I continued on my own dinner. "No he's not. He didn't give me any reason for cancelling our tutoring session tonight. He just...cancelled it. He's sick of me, that's what it is... It _is_ personal, Denise..."

"It is not. I'm telling you, he's just feeling bitter because of his loss."

I cocked an eyebrow at her. "The quidditch match?"

"No, the cricket match..."

"Cricket?"

"Nevermind. I was being sarcastic. Of course the quidditch match, Suzie! We beat him! He doesn't even want to look at any Hufflepuffs right now..."

"Denise, that game was two days ago. I mean, I know Oliver's a fanatic and all, but he can't still be in mourning..."

Denise put her fork down and leaned forward, dropping her voice. "Percy told me Oliver's been staying up late into the night, just sitting there in his bed, stroking his broom." Denise rolled her eyes again when I sniggered. "The one he rides, woman. You know, the Cleansweep?"

I bit my lip to suppress the laughter. Cleansweep indeed. Stroking his broom...oh, the image of Oliver sitting in bed--one hand lovingly stroking the handle of his broom, and the other hand busy elsewhere--I snorted. Denise shook her head disapprovingly.

"We're eating, you know...I don't want to think about Oliver doing what's going through your mind..." Denise said.

I grinned at her. "No one asked you to."

Denise sniffed and turned her attention back to her dinner. Perhaps it was time to get back to the subject of Oliver blowing me off...but since we've gone off-course to a particularly dirty topic, how can I resist the temptation to stay on it?

"So...do you think he does?" I asked. I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh as Denise looked up at me, apparently quite confused.

"Do I think he does what?"

"Do you think he strokes his broom at night? What else?"

"Well...Percy said he does it, so I guess he does. Why? Who cares"--Denise stopped midsentence as her eyes widened. God, she's naive sometimes--"Suzie, you perv! Of course he doesn't!"

"Really, how do you know?" I asked, wiggling my eyebrows at her. She looks positively flabbergasted. This is fun...

"I don't know...I'm just guessing...Suzie, why the hell are we discussing this? Is it our business if he..." Her voice trailed off and her face was becoming progressively pink.

"If he what?" I asked, trying very hard to look genuinely curious.

"If he...if he...oh, you know what I mean!" Denise snapped.

I laughed. If there's any difference I enjoy having with Denise, it's her modesty and my lack of it. We have a good time of it...well, I do anyway. It's fun teasing modest people and making them blush...

"Oh...you mean if he touches"--

Denise shushed me and glanced around the table to see if anyone was paying attention to us. "Yes...that." she practically hissed. "It's not our business..."

"Oh come on...I'm just saying...do you think he does? I mean...he doesn't have a girlfriend...he hasn't had one since like...who? Nora Henderson?" I asked, trying to think back to the last time Oliver had a girlfriend. Yes, it had to be Nora...she was a Gryffindor who had been a year ahead of us and had graduated last year. Quite pretty and smart, and quite the quidditch fan as I understand...

"Nora?" Denise asked. "But wasn't that like...back when we were fourth years or something?" I nodded, and Denise giggled. "Yeah...he definitely does it then..."

"Does what?" I asked innocently. Denise made a face at me and kicked me from under the table.

"Why do you always try to get me to say words I don't want to say?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Cause it's fun making you blush and get all embarassed about such silly things..."

Denise rolled her eyes at me for the umpteenth time. "Ok, so weren't we talking about how Oliver's slighted you by cancelling your tutoring session?"

I glared at her as she smiled complacently at me. Still upset about us winning the quidditch match...I don't know...is losing to us so awful for him that he has to cancel tutoring? It's just a quidditch game, and it happened days ago...but then again, it _is_ Oliver...maybe Denise was right...

"...plus, maybe he's a bit shaken up still. I mean, come on...dementors?" Denise said. "That was pretty creepy...and the guy's seeker almost got killed! I imagine Oliver's a bit upset by that too. I mean, it was Harry Potter...he's supposed to be like the best seeker they've had in years...I bet Oliver's just shaken up at what he almost lost..."

I nodded. How true. Another reason to love Denise. She can see miles ahead of me at times. "You're right." I said. "Poor guy..."

"Who, Oliver?" Denise asked.

"No, poor Snape...yes, poor Oliver!"

Denise raised an eyebrow at me. "Why would you feel sorry for him? If you ask me, I think that's quite selfish of him..."

"How is that selfish? How is him being upset about Harry falling fifty feet from his broom an act of selfishness? I think that's sweet..." I replied. And I'm honestly not just saying this because it's Oliver. Ok, maybe I am...partly because it's Oliver...but really, I do think that's sweet to be shaken up on behalf of some thirteen year old boy...

"Suzie, he doesn't care about Harry...he cares about his seeker!" Denise replied.

I rolled my eyes. "Honestly woman, even I'm more informed about quidditch around here. Harry _is_ the seeker..."

"I know that!" Denise replied. "I mean that Oliver wasn't concerned that Harry almost got killed, or almost got his soul sucked out by one of those horrible dementors, he was just concerned about losing his seeker, losing one of the pieces of his team! That's what I mean by being selfish...he doesn't care about anyone...he just cares about his stupid game and winning it. And he's so damn upset about it that he's neglecting his responsibilities..."

"Like..." I said, looking at her expectantly. I think there's a loose screw somewhere in Denise's head...

"Like the fact that he's cancelled tutoring with you..." Denise said. "you're a Hufflepuff...he's probably too embarassed or something to face us..."

"I dunno"--

"And he's not coming to class on time...you know how rude it is to walk in a professor's lecture ten minutes late?" Denise continued. "I mean it's one thing if your friend died or something, but losing a dumb quidditch match? That's ridiculous..."

I couldn't help but laugh as I got up and reached for my bag. Someone's gone a little over-reactive here...

"Denise, I think you're being a bit harsh on him...no one's that selfish..."

Denise made a face at me. "You're just being soft on him because you looooove him..."

And the temperature of my body has gone up significantly. "I do not _love_ him. I like him. I think he's cute and looks good riding a broom. Nothing more..."

"You sure that's all you like him riding?" Denise asked.

I think my mouth just fell open. I attempted to close it, but it wouldn't go. Instead, I just started laughing. Did Denise just say that? Yes, she did...the woman is now blushing a very bright pink, but looking quite pleased with herself. Oh, this is a happy moment. My little Denise, all grown up...

"I think I'm finally starting to rub off on you!" I said, and suddenly urged by a feeling of triumph and glory, I leaned forward and hugged Denise. She slapped me away in return.

"Go away." She said.

"Aren't you going to ask me where I'm going?"

"Up to the library to pine after Oliver?"

I shook my head, grinning. "Nope! I'm using this would-have-been tutoring time to go see Professor Lupin..."

Denise raised an eyebrow at me. "Really? Why?"

"We have a date..."

"Yeah, and I'mengaged to Professor Flitwick..." Denise replied.

I gasped with mock surprise. "You dirty slut! He's already married..."

Denise rolled her eyes at me. "Why are you seeing Lupin?"

"We're going to try to make babies..."

"Questions about the homework then?" Denise asked.

"Yeah..."

Denise laughed and turned back to her dinner. "I'll see you later in the common room then."

* * *

God, I love Defense Against the Dark Arts. I mean, I feel so comfortable in that class...I really do. I understand most of what we're doing, and the times I don't it's not a big deal--I just go to Professor Lupin for help. It's great. I usually hate asking professors for help when I'm confused...some ego issue of mine, I suppose. The way people like Professor Snape and Professor Vector act so condescending when you tell them you're lost...makes me feel about two inches tall. But not with Professor Lupin...he's so sweet about everything. He actually looks genuinely happy to see you when you come in his office...the way he gets up from his desk and smiles at you, offering you a cup of tea as he pulls out a rusty old kettle without waiting for a response...and then you just sit there with him, talking about class...he makes you feel like your his only student...man, his wife is one lucky woman...I mean, I'm pretty sure he's married. I've never remembered to check for a ring when I see him, but how can he not be married? He's so...wonderful...and smart...and sexy...and...er...is that Harry Potter? 

I had just turned the corner and was a few meters from Lupin's office, where I saw Harry emerge, tucking his wand into his pocket. I wonder what he's up to. In for help with defense as well? But he doesn't seem like the type who'd need help...defense against the dark arts is supposed to be his forte...at least that's what I've heard. Hmm...oh well. He's cute. I mean not I-want-to-get-into-your-pants cute, but adorable cute. With that messy hair and spacey look on his face...and those big, baggy muggle clothes he wears...he's practically drowning in them...so cute...I could just pinch his cheeks...

I pursed my lips as he walked by me, resisting the urge to laugh. I'm guessing he wouldn't take kindly to knowing that I want to pinch his cheeks. He doesn't seem to notice me though. He's just walked by, and I'm positive he was muttering to himself. "Expecto patronum..." is what it sounded like. But why the hell would he be muttering that? Oh...maybe that's why he was seeing Professor Lupin...to get help with conjuring a patronus! Wait...hold on. He's thirteen...why the hell would he be learning that? I'm a seventh year and I only just learned how to do one a few weeks ago! Oh wait...dementors. They seem to have taken a liking to Harry, haven't they? Maybe that's why he's learning the patronus charm...oh, how cute is that? Harry is going to Professor Lupin for help in combating the dementors! What a cutie pie! (I don't know what's so adorable about that, but there you have it...) And Lupin...taking on the burden of teaching Harry such advanced magic...that's so sweet...so sexy...so...oh yeah. Most likely a married man. Must stop thinking of Lupin as sexy boyfriend material. I have Oliver for that...

* * *

Half an hour later, I'm done with my homework inquiries but am still sitting in Professor Lupin's office, starting on my second cup of tea. He might use bags instead of leaves, but damn he knows how to make a good cup of tea... 

"So Suzie, tell me. You're in your seventh year now. What do you plan on doing after graduation?"

I shrugged. Much to my parents' displeasure, I had no idea what I wanted to do with myself after graduating...and for that reason I was still taking most of the subjects I had been taking during my first few years at Hogwarts, minus divination and muggle studies. God, those classes were boring.

"No idea?" he asked, taking a sip of tea.

"Not a clue."

Lupin paused and set his teacup down, looking quite pensive. Gosh, he looks so sexy when he gets thoughtful-looking...

"Well, is there anything you know you don't want to do?" he asked me.

"Well...I'm terrible at potions, so"--

"You're not terrible." he said, cutting me off. "You're in the advanced class, and I know for sure that Professor Snape has very high standards for letting students into his advanced classes. Perhaps a better way to put it is that you don't like potions..." he said, smiling. What a sweetheart. Oh, I want to melt...why can't all men be made like Lupin?

"Fine." I replied. "I don't _like_ potions...so I think I don't think I can be a healer...not that I really want to anyway...and I'm terrible at quidditch, so there goes any chance of going professional..."

"You're very good in my class. Have you ever considered something in the field of defense against the dark arts?"

"Like...being an auror or something?" I asked. I think my eyebrows have disappeared behind my bangs. Does he actually think I have the makings of an auror?

"That's definitely a possibility...I think you would make a fine auror..." he replied. "But there are other things too, like teaching...working for the ministry..."

"Are you suggesting teaching because you're a teacher?" I asked, grinning at him.

He laughed in response. "Possibly. But no, it's really a good field...and I think you'd like it...I mean, as long as you like kids...do you?"

I'm trying very hard not to giggle. He's asking me if I like kids. Professor Lupin is wondering if I like kids. I don't know what's so suggestive about that. Yet it feels like it is...asking moi if I have kids...hee hee! And this is a married man...oh wait. Hold on. I'm looking at his hands. No rings. Oh, Merlin...is this man single?

"Are you married?"

"Sorry?"

Oh holy crap. Did I just ask my professor if he was married? Ok, Suzie. Nice job. Very stupid. God. I could just hit myself right now...or hurl myself into Lupin's grindylow tank...

"Uh...no, I'm not married. Why...why...what has that go to do with"--

"Nothing!" I stammered quickly. Oh God. He's blushing and stuttering. I mean, I usually enjoy embarassing cute people, but now I just feel bad... Ok. Just...try to think of something...make a recovery... "I mean," I forced myself to say, "I don't know...I just...you were talking about children...and...that reminded me of marriage...and I was under the impression that you were married...but then when we were talking for some reason I began to wonder if you really were, and...uh...I sort of asked you without thinking. Sorry...it's none of my business, I know..."

What the hell...did I just tell him the truth? More or less, I think...that wasn't supposed to happen...

"Oh...alright then..." Lupin said slowly, sitting up straighter in his chair.

"Yeah...I mean"--I started, but stopped when I heard footsteps behind me at the door.

"Oh! Sorry, sir"--

I craned my neck to see who had just entered. It was Oliver, clutching a roll of parchment.

"Sorry, sir..." he repeated, looking straight at Lupin. Not even acknowledging me...how rude. "I just wanted to turn my paper in to you..."

"Oh, of course..." Lupin said, smiling at him. "Er--Suzie, could you"--

"Huh?" I glanced from Lupin to Oliver, and saw Oliver extending the essay out to me. "Oh! Sure!" I said, getting up and taking the essay from Oliver and passing it to Lupin.

"Thanks for letting me turn it in late, Professor..." Oliver said as he went for the door.

"No problem. Remember though that I have to take off a little for late assignments..." Lupin replied, smiling at Oliver.

"Course." Oliver replied. He turned on his heel to leave, but then turned around to face us again. He looked at me. Apologetically. Gosh he looks cute when he's apologetic...Oh, I want to kiss him...

"Er, listen Suzie, sorry again about cancelling..." he said. "We'll do it next week though, alright?"

"Sure." I replied, fighting to stay on the ground. Wood was apologizing to me, and actually looking sorry. My heart has wings...and I want to fly...

Oliver left, and I turned back to Professor Lupin, ready to ask for another cup of tea, but he's cocking an eyebrow at me. God, it's just as sexy as when Oliver does it...oh wait. Hold on. He's doing it for a reason...what did I do this time?

"What?" I asked.

"Absolutely nothing." He said with a small smile.

"Oliver's tutoring me in potions..." I explained, wondering what the hell Lupin was looking all knowingly at me for. "But he cancelled today...Denise reckons it's because he's still bitter about losing that quidditch match..."

Lupin laughed. "Possibly. But he might have a genuine excuse for not being able to meet with you. So are your tutoring sessions proving to be helpful then?"

"Oh yeah...very helpful. Oliver's a good teacher..."

"I can see that." Lupin replied. He was still looking at me funny. Ok. Slightly annoyed here...

"Yeah? What else do you see?" I asked again, sounding a bit more defensive than I had meant to.

He laughed again. "I'm not a seer, Suzie..."

"But you are clearly looking..._beyond_!" I said, trying to imitate Professor Trelawney's soft, misty voice. Professor Lupin's mouth twitched into a smile, but he did not laugh. "You perceive something that my clouded inner eye fails to see..."

"Perhaps you should consider divination as a field of further study." Professor Lupin said, still smiling. "Or acting maybe...of course, you'd have better luck with that in the muggle world than the wizard world..."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Acting would be fun...only I couldn't act if my life depended on it. When I was little and went to muggle school, we had a play about dental hygiene...I tried out for the part of the Ms. Gingivitis, and I didn't get it...My dreams of being an actress were crushed then and there." I explained.

"How terrible, to be let down so young..." Lupin said as he stood up. Drats. I know what that means. He has work to do and I need to go. I suppose I have worn out my welcome after sitting through three cups of tea with him. "Well, I should get back to work, and you have an essay due in my class tomorrow, which I'm guessing you haven't started yet." he said.

"I have too started it!" I said as I got up and packed my bag.

"Really?"

"Um...yeah!" Ok, so the only thing I've written down on my parchment is my name and the date...but still...that counts, doesn't it? Anyway, I have tonight to work on it. And tomorrow during breakfast...

"I see. Well, I'm very sorry to have jumped to conclusions about you." Lupin said.

"It's quite alright." I said stiffly as I headed towards the door. I wanted to hurry up and get out before he had the chance to read my mind or something... "'Night Professor Lupin!"

Lupin had sat back down at his desk and was going through some stacks of papers. "Good night, Suzie. And do remember to include a strong thesis statement when you sit down to write the introduction of your essay during breakfast tomorrow."

I had already stepped out of his office, but immediately turned around to look at Lupin. He did not meet my eyes though. "You have a long-standing habit of turning in toast crumbs with your essays..." he said without looking up from his work.

I meant to reply...to say something witty that would make him feel bad for teasing me, but instead I just turned around and left. Damn, he's good. Step aside Snape, you're not the only one who sees and knows all!

* * *

As I made my way to the Hufflepuff common room, I was thoroughly occupied with fantasies of Lupin and Snape dueling each other...so occupied in fact, that I didn't even notice that the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room was blocked off until I reached the foot of the stairs and was only a few meters away from the portrait that guarded it. Ugh. Sick. Madeline Slutty-Long-Legs Johnson is snogging her boyfriend right in front of the entrance. Elinor, the portrait who guards our common room, was fast asleep, hence was not reprimanding slutty Madeline or her slutty boyfriend. Oh geez...let the man breath! I swear...wait. Hold on. Madeline has a boyfriend? But all the guys in our year and in our house have girlfriends...unless...she's dating a guy from another house...and/or another year...hmm...who is it? The body looks familiar...but I can't see the face because Madeline's big head is covering it...ugh. Ok...let's see. He has brown hair. Nice, muscular-ish build...hey, he kind of looks like...Oh. My. God. Madeline, you bitch... 

"Good night, Oliver..." Madeline said with a giggle as she came up for air. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Right. Night, Madeline..." Oliver replied. Oh, God...his voice sounded husky...I think I want to puke. And when Madeline disappeared behind the portrait and Oliver down the corridor, I did. Oh God, I want Denise...


	6. More Lupin, Wood and a Little Pince

Chapter Six: More Professor Lupin, Oliver Wood and Some Madam Pince...

* * *

Gah...Hurry up, woman...I haven't got all day...I tapped my heel repeatedly against the leg of my chair as I watched Professor McGonagall, waiting for her to turn away so I could get my note from Denise. I just _need_ to know what Denise thinks about this whole Madeline/Oliver fiasco. I told her last night about them, but I had just said that they were kissing, and proceeded to go to bed, saying I would tell her the rest later. So now I've just sat and written her a 30 inch note (and that's longer than a lot of essays I write!) about the details of what I saw. How they were kissing (I'm almost certain there was some tongue movement going on there...) and how long, where the hands were (it has suddenly come to my attention that Madeline the Great Slut has very nice buns...I really need to spend less time sitting around in the common room, and more time climbing stairs or something...) , what was said, the intonation of their voices, etc...

Anyway, I don't know how to go from here. Make Madeline's life a living hell, or move on? Well, I suppose the torturing of Madeline goes without saying, but should I move on? Or should I try to break them up? But if I _did _break them up...that doesn't mean I'll get to keep the pieces for myself...maybe I should just harrass Madeline and move on...find another fish..there's plenty of other fish in the sea, after all. Wait. Hold on...find another _guy_...yeah, that sounds better...

Let's see...who is there? Ok...let's think about quidditch players, because...well, they ride the brooms. Let's see..Flint in Slytherin...but he's pretty nappy looking. Oh, but Montague, another Slytherin on the team...he's cute. But he's a bit of an ass. He played very dirty in the last quidditch match against us. He's the reason actually we're not going on to the final. Bastard. Ok, so cross him off...geez. No one from Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw that I could go for...all the cute guys are much younger than me...except Cedric...he's just a little younger than me. But our relationship is just too damn platonic to ever get really sexual. Hmph. Ohhh...hold on. I can think of one sexy, single man who's old enough for me...maybe a bit _too_ old, but I don't mind...

"Suzie!"

I jumped in my seat at the sound of Denise's hissing. I glanced ahead and realized McGonagall had long since turned her attention to the board and provided the perfect opportunity to drop my hand backwards to get Denise's note.

As I leaned back in my seat and reached for my note, I chanced a glance at Denise; she looked slightly put out. Oh, she's such a worry wart...always thinks she's going to get into trouble. I wiggled my eyebrows at her as she handed me the note, but she didn't smile or roll her eyes at me like she usually did when I did some stupid facial contortion. Huh. I quickly unrolled the scrap of parchment and flattened it against my notes, just as McGonagall turned around and began pressing Montague with questions about everything she just said...Hah. Sucker...

_Oh, Suzie...I truly love you to pieces, but I swear...sometimes you are such a cow!_

Ok, what? I pour my heart and soul into this note, telling her about how hurt and betrayed I felt at having to witness my heart being torn asunder... (isn't 'asunder' such a cool word? Lupin used it in his lecture yesterday, and I thought it just sounded too cool...) and she tells me I'm a cow? What the hell, Denise?

_Did you really think Oliver was going to be single forever, waiting to be taken by you? I don't get it...you have such a big-ass mouth; you have no problem saying the most inappropriately suggestive things to people (including Oliver!), yet you couldn't tell him how you felt? That just doesn't make sense. I'm sorry, Suzie...but I don't think you have any right to be angry at them the way you are. I mean, I can understand why you are, and you do have the right to be upset about it, but you shouldn't blame Oliver and Madeline for this. I don't think either of them knew how you felt. Ok, if Madeline knew you liked Oliver, she probably would've made a move on him ages ago just to spite you...but if Oliver knew...he might've asked you out! Though honestly, I don't see much in Oliver and think you're better off without him (yes, I'm still irked by his horrible insensitivity to others and his selfish obsession with quidditch...but hey, you're my friend and I want you to be happy...so whatever floats your boat...) _

_I'm sorry...I'm writing such a mean note to you, I know. I'm sure you were expecting more comforting words from me. Look, please don't be so hung up on Oliver...you're beautiful, and smart...and funny...Oliver's an idiot to not ask you out...he'd be an even greater idiot to say no if you had asked him out! You could have any guy you want, Suzie... (except Professor Lupin, because he's twice your age and is our professor, and it's just not appropriate to make passes at professors, so don't try it, alright?) Seriously, any guy would be lucky to have you...you're not at any loss with this Madeline/Oliver business...it's Oliver's loss if anything._

I could feel my mouth twitch as I folded up Denise's note. Somewhat comforting, somewhat disappointing. She didn't even comment on my list of ideas on how to humiliate/torture Madeline. And I would've at least thought she'd be on board with my idea of destroying Oliver's Cleensweep and hiding the pieces under Madeline's bed...I suppose she is right though. I could've asked Oliver out. I mean, I can ask boys out. I asked Cedric Diggory out and it wasn't a big deal...but then again, it was for this stupid debutante ball my parents and his parents were invited to and I needed an escort, and he needed a date...it worked out fine, but no romance sprung from it. Thank goodness. I mean, I know we're not brother and sister or anything, but I swear, when I think of Cedric and me having kids, I imagine them having abnormally large heads and lots of extra fingers and stuff...

Anyway, I forgot why my mind wandered to Cedric. Oh yeah...asking out Oliver. I don't know why I never felt like I could do it. I've never really asked out a guy for real...Actually, I've never really been on a date to be honest. I mean I have, but not on a _real_ date, where it was just me and the boy, snogging in some stuffy corner of Madam Pudifoot's...I've been on a few double dates with sixth year Hufflepuff Nicky Watson, where she'd set me up with various friends of her boyfriend's...nothing ever came from those..It's kind of weird though, that I've never been on a real date...for someone who has a bit of experience with boys...I have snogged a few boys, you know...just never on dates. Heh. There was that incident with my Snape-like cousin back when I first tried firewhiskey, and uh...a few other occasions with guys at parties...and the worst part is that I wasn't even drunk at these parties. See, I was going through this phase last summer...I just wanted to have a few good snogs...don't ask. I guess I just wanted a bit of experience attached to the 'gutter-mind' title that people label me with. Just because I think about boys and sex and all things dirty every 2.24543 seconds, doesn't mean I actually engage in all those activities. In fact, I have a confession to make. I've never actually had sex before. Now, no one but Denise knows this fact, and I'd like to keep it that way, just 'cause...

"Well, that lesson was positively invigorating!"

I had been packing my books away at the end of class when I heard Percy's voice. He had just passed by, and was looking rather pompous...and I mean more so than he normally does. He glanced down at me as he passed, cocking an eyebrow at me as he did so. Now that was one incredibly un-sexy eyebrow cocking. He can't even compete with Lupin's eyebrow-raising. Or Oliver's. God. No one can compete with him. Damn him for being so sexy...and so...unavailable. Sigh.

I got up and flung my bag over my shoulder, and was about to go to meet Denise outside, when I saw a sheet of parchment on my desk. Was that my transfiguration exam? Huh...didn't even notice McGonagall passing them back! Oh crap. No wonder Percy was looking so smug. He saw my score. Ugh, what an ass. I didn't even do that bad. I got an 'Acceptable'...big deal. I mean, it's not up to my usual Es and Os I get in here, but still...A is passing...

"Did you read my note?"

I stuffed my exam in my bag and turned around to face Denise.

"Yep..."

She raised her eyebrows at me. "Well? Are you alright? You're not mad at me for anything I said, are you?"

I sighed. Sometimes I just want to hit Denise. She's always so...concerned. "Of course not. You wrote the truth...I can't hate you for speaking the truth."

She smiled slightly as we climbed down the stairs that led us to our common room. "So...are you alright then? I mean...are you at least feeling better than you were last night?"

I couldn't help but wince. Did she really have to bring up last night? It was a very shameful moment for me...she should know that. And what exactly happened last night? Well, after I managed to unglue my eyes from the sight of Oliver and Madeline snogging (and after cleaning up the mess of puke I had left on the floor when they had gone), I somehow got my legs to take me to the common room. Denise had apparently been in there; but I hadn't noticed. The only person I had noticed was Madeline, because she was sitting in my favorite spot by the fire, giggling with her friends and looking smug...probably telling them about what a good kisser Oliver is... Anyway, I went down into the dormitories and I cried. I actually cried. I, Suzie Hennessey, cried like a baby. And Denise caught me. The mere memory of it makes me shudder. I do not cry. I didn't even cry at my aunt Lola's funeral...ok, that may be because I never met her (she was the oddball in our family...she married a muggle and became fascinated with muggle clothes and then became a fashion designer in Milan...), but still. Suzie Hennessey does not cry. Especially not because of boys. That's just so stupid and trivial. Sure, I like boys. Ok...I love boys, and I don't know what I'd do with myself if there weren't any boys to ogle at or fantasize about...but still...I don't get lovey-dovey and gushy about guys. That's just not me. I'm not the romantic sort who gets attached to guys. See, that's Denise. I just like them for the physical pleasures they can provide. That's all, really...I shouldn't be getting so emotionally broken about finding Oliver with another woman. I mean, I wasn't supposed to be attached to him...

"Suzie?"

"Of course I'm fine..." I finally said, wondering how much time had elapsed since Denise had asked me her question.

"No you're not..." she replied. Damn. Too much time then.

"No, really...I am...I'm much better than last night..."

She smiled rather ruefully. Oh, I hate it when she does that. It's a clear indicator that she's going to get all motherly on me--I mean more so than she already is. "Ok, but you still don't look too good. There's so much sadness in your eyes, Suzie..."

I rolled my eyes at her as we entered our common room. "It's not sadness, it's just fatigue. I don't think I got much sleep last night..."

"I don't think you slept well either..." she replied, putting an arm around my shoulder. Oh, here it comes... "You didn't even snore! Suzie, I wish I could just take some of this burden off of you...you seem so hurt!"

"I'm not hurt!" I said. I bit my lip, feeling slightly ashamed at the sharpness my voice had taken. "Sorry..." I said quickly. "I just...I was surprised about it...and annoyed. I mean, I liked him...and I hated _her_..." I said, lowering my voice when I realized Madeline was in the vicinity, reading our potions texts (pff...as if. She probably has a copy of _Witch Weekly _or _Playwitch_ tucked inside...) "So I'm a bit mad about it...but I'm not like, _hurt_ or anything..."

Denise frowned at me. Why the hell is she frowning? I being serious here! I am so not hurt!

"You are so hurt, Suzie...come on! You were crying last night...and you didn't really say anything about it either when I came into our room...you couldn't...you were too hurt!"

"I was not"--

I was cut off though by the sound of Denise's gasp, followed by a rather high squeal. She had her hands clasped over her mouth and her eyes were practically dancing out of her sockets. I glanced around the room, and saw that several students had turned their attention towards us; including Madeline slutty-long-legs Johnson. Nosy little bitch...

"What?" I hissed at Denise as I dragged her out of earshot and into our empty dormitory. I shut the door behind me and faced Denise, who was wearing a large grin.

"You're in _love_!"

I feel like a wooden block has clunked against my head. "Ok...what?"

Denise giggled. "You love him! You love Oliver!"

I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing would come out. I'm not even sure how to begin to respond to something like that... I mean, she's jokingly accused me of being in love with him before, but right now...she looks serious. I mean, giggling aside, she looked sincere. She sounded sincere when she said that. She _actually_ thinks I'm...that's insane...

"Oh, Suzie...don't argue! You do...you totally love him...I'm so stupid! How did I not see this before? You gush over him"--

"I gush about guys all the time, Denise..." I replied. What? It's true...I rarely speak ill of men. Except Percy Weasley. And I even more seldom speak of men in nonsexual ways...

"Yeah I know, but you never give men a second thought. You make your dirty observations and then move on. But you're stuck on Oliver..."

"So I like him a little..."

"You were so crushed about him...being too scared to ask him out...crying over him...not sleeping properly...oh Suzie, you're totally smitten with him..."

"I am _not_! It's just that...well, I only found out yesterday! I'm just weirded out by all this...I'm sure I'll be perfectly fine in a day or so..."

I'm starting to feel a bit annoyed here. Smitten? I don't get smitten...only pathetic, romantic girly girls get smitten... But Denise seems quite oblivious. She dropped her grin and was now looking at me like a baby who gotten her candy stolen.

"You poor baby...ugh! If I only knew how much you cared for him...I would've been so much more supportive of you and him getting together! Hell, I would've asked him out for you..."

I opened my mouth to reply, but was cut off when Denise threw her arms around me and pulled me in for a tight hug. As I focused on putting all my energy into breathing through her tight clutch, Denise stroked my hair, reminding me greatly of my mum and how she gets when I complain about having menstrual cramps...

"Don't worry... Oliver and Madeline is a match made in hell...they'll break up soon enough, and you'll have him. Do you want a biscuit or something? Some tea?"

I opened my mouth, gasping for air as Denise let go of me. "Sorry?"

"Some chocolate or something? Always nice with tea...it'll make you feel better." she replied. "Only...I don't think I have any chocolate on me. And uh...I'm not sure about the tea...we'd have to go to Professor Trelawney and get tea leaves from her...I don't know who else might have them."

"I'm fine..." I replied, shuddering at the thought of popping over to Trelawney's. "I'm not hungry anyway..."

"I wish I could do something to make you feel better..." Denise said, plopping onto her bed. She was looking me over, probably trying to decide if I looked too thin or sickly or something. It's what my mum always does when I get off the Hogwarts Express every summer. Actually, Denise's mum does the same thing to me every time I visit...

"Oh!" Denise exclaimed, clapping her hands and startling the hell out of me as I took a seat on the bed across from her; Madeline's bed. I clawed my fingers into her comforter, trying to think of something I could do to make her bed less comfortable. Perhaps putting some bugs in it? Oooh...dead beetles...mashed up into her pillow...

"Oh, sorry...you had an idea or something?" I asked, looking up at Denise, who looked slightly deflated at not being received with more enthusiasm.

She sighed exasperatedly. "Would causing a little hell make you feel better?"

I smiled slightly. "Maybe..."

* * *

"Suzie, I have to admit...I'm impressed."

I bit my lip, trying to keep my mouth from breaking into too large a grin. Oh, keep the praises comin' baby...

Oliver shut his potion book at the end of our tutoring session. "I mean, to be honest...I didn't have very high expectations of these sessions at first...but you've improved practically overnight! Have you been studying extra?"

I casually looked up at the ceiling, trying very hard to look nonchalant. "Oh...well, no...not really. But thanks...I feel an improvement too." Heh. Truth is, I've been studying my butt off these past few days. Turns out I'm pretty damn good at potions when I've got the right motivation. And what is the right motivation, you ask? Righteous anger. The need to show up Madeline. The need to make Oliver see that I'm twice the wit Madeline is. Ok, that third motivation can sort of be tied to the second one, but whatever. Having these motivations really does wonders...

"Well...you seem pretty damn good at this stuff now, and you definitely seem ready for the next exam...do you think you still need my help?" He asked, cocking his eyebrow at me. Oh. God. I wish I could just stupify him or something...just freeze that look on his face and stare at it all day...Oh wait...hold on...did he just ask me if I want to end his tutoring sessions? Like hell I do!

I laughed, hopefully still sounding casual. "I don't think I'm that good _yet_, Oliver. Besides, if you want that broom, you need to tutor me til end of term..."

Oliver sighed wistfully. You know, I always thought his obsession with quidditch was just weird...but now I'm starting to find it rather sexy. He's just so damn...passionate. I mean, I know it's a sport that he's lusting after...but the fact that he has the capacity to be passionate...not many people have that. Plus, if he has the capacity for passion in one area of his life, he just might be able to transfer some of that passion into...well, other areas...

"Alright...that's only a few weeks. So"--he pivoted in his chair so our bodies faced each other--"so...you're really going to get me that Firebolt for fifty percent off?" he asked.

"So long as you keep educating me..." I said, wiggling my eyebrows at him rather suggestively. Too bad he's thick and doesn't notice the suggestiveness...

Oliver grinned. Aw! It was all cute and boyish...like he was being promised a pony or something...or...well, something more masculine, perhaps.

"Alright...so...maybe we can meet up during the holidays?"

"Really?" I think my heart is a few beats away from pounding its way out of my chest...

"Er...well...yeah, to get the broom. I imagine your uncle wouldn't be giving me a discounted firebolt just cause I asked...I think you'd have to be there..."

And my heart has sunk. And I think my brain has twitched a little. Honestly, how am I so dumb sometimes? "Oh! Right...yeah. Ok...sure, we can meet...erm...well, as long as it's alright with Madeline...she won't mind, will she?"

Oliver had been leaning over his side to grab his bag, but had looked up at me when I mentioned Madeline's name, and ended up falling over his chair and onto the ground. Normally I would've laughed and snorted til Madam Pince herself came and dragged me out of her library by the ear...but today I couldn't. I was feeling a bit nervous. I had purposely brought up Madeline's name...I just needed to hear him say he was going out with her...just for confirmation...

"Er...Madeline? Why would she--I mean--she wouldn't...you heard?"

I cocked an eyebrow at him as he got up and re-seated himself, wondering in the back of my mind if I could do it as sexily as Oliver or Lupin. Nah. Eyebrow cocking isn't a particularly sexy trait for women. Now, doing things with your boobs...that's sexy. What you do with them, I don't know...but I hear men dig women who can do...different...things with them.

"Heard what? That you're dating?" I asked.

"Yeah..."

"No..."

"Oh...but then"--

I rolled my eyes at him. "I saw you two snogging the other night...so...I figured."

"Ah..."

"Yeah..."

Huh. Slightly awkward silence. Was mentioning Madeline not a good idea then?

"Well...yeah, we're going out now. But I don't think she'd care if we got together...I mean...why should she?" Oliver finally said.

I shrugged, fighting the urge to let out an exasperated sigh. I was having a fierce mental debate on which direction I should take this conversation. I could say A) "I don't know...she's a girl, and girls can be quite possessive of their boyfriends", B ) "Well, maybe she won't like the idea of you going broom shopping with me...I mean, she might feel threatened...It is me, you know. I'm pretty damn sexy and seductive, or C) remain silent. Cancel C. There's that saying "silence is deadly". Or was it "silence is golden"? Well, I guess they're the same, right? I mean, gold is deadly...isn't it? I mean..if you eat it...that can't be good for your health...

"I mean...she doesn't care that I tutor you...why should she care if we met up in Diagon Alley to get a broom?"

Damn. He took control of the conversation before I could. And I was really leaning towards B )...I like the idea of telling him I'm sexy and seductive... Wait, hold the floo. Did he just say she doesn't care that he tutors me? That slutty-long-legs bitch _knows_?

"Hold on...you told her you tutor me?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Yeah...so?"

"That's none of her business..."

"She wanted to know where I was going tonight..."

"You couldn't have said you were going to the library? That would've been an honest answer!" I snapped.

Oliver raised his brows at me in a very (for the first time) unsexy way. It wasn't just the skeptical look (which I usually find positively heart-rendering), but it was more of a 'Wow-I-suddenly-feel-like-I'm-better-than-you' eyebrow cocking. In other words, the Percy Weasley eyebrow cocking. Ick.

"What's the big deal? You afraid she's going to think you're stupid or something?" He asked.

"Do you honestly think I give a damn about what she thinks of me?"

"Then what the hell is your problem?" he asked, his voice sharpening signficantly.

"I just don't think it's any of her business...it's no one's business!"

Oliver made a tutting noise...very reminiscent of that annoying-ass Gryffindor girl with the big hair...major prefect-wannabe...Hermione Granger. Yes, very much like her. "I doubt you'd care if I had told Fred or George Weasley that I was tutoring you..."

"Yeah, well...Fred and George Weasley don't have pixies up their asses..."

Woah. Did I say that aloud? Judging by the look on Oliver's face, I'd say I did... Woops.

"What the hell is your deal? You've got a problem with Madeline or something?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes as I hurriedly packed my bag. "Oh, wherever did you get that crazy notion from, Oliver? Madeline's an absolute pussycat! Well, no...she's really just a p"--

"Don't even finish that sentence, Suzie."

I let out a low whistle. (Ok...so it was more of a small gust of air with a little spit than an actual whistle...hey, I never learned how to whistle, big whoop). "Wow...defending your woman's honour...aren't you just the chivalrous knight!"

Oliver stood up quickly, causing his chair to slide back roughly across the floor as he grabbed his things. "Go to hell."

"I'm assuming we won't be meeting next week then?" I asked, trying my best to sound confident and uncaring while my insides were probably wilting away in depression at the words coming out of our mouths.

"Very good, genius." Oliver replied as he stalked off.

Ok, I don't even want to begin to process half the mess of words I spat out; they probably didn't even make sense. But I know I want to have the last word...so I called after him. "Alright then! I guess I won't be seeing you over the holidays then!"

Ah. Victory smells so sweet. Oliver stopped dead in his tracks, and slowly turned around to face me. As the muggles say, I love having the ball in my court!

"You're kidding, right?" he asked. Well, someone seems to have lost some of their confidence. Oh he sounds vulnerable. I love it when guys get all vulnerable...ok. No. Must stand ground. Must not think of Oliver sexually right now...

"Why would I kid?" I asked. Oliver took a few steps forward.

"I've been tutoring you how many weeks now?" he asked. "Hour after hour of having to drill potion brewing instructions into your head...and that's no easy task, considering how thick your head is and the fact that you've got the attention span of a moth!"

And my jaw has dropped a few inches. How rude! I mean, I know I have trouble paying attention sometimes, but he doesn't have to point it out! And I am _not_ thick...Oh, what an ass-face...

"Well, that's just too damn bad then. You want compensation though for your time? Fine..."

I reached into my pockets and pulled out a handful of sickles and knuts, and tossed them at his feet. "There! Maybe use that to buy a few twigs off a firebolt!"

I didn't even wait for his answer. I stormed passed him, wanting nothing more than to just get the hell away from him. I froze though when I looked up and saw Madam Pince making her way towards us...I think there was smoke coming out of her ears. Shit. I glanced around. Quick...where to hide...where to hide? Stupid question. I'm surrounded by aisles upon aisles of books. I quickly ducked between the nearest couple of aisles, just in time to avoid Madam Pince's insanely sharp range of vision. A few moments later, I could hear her shrieking at Oliver for disrupting the peace of the library. Surprisingly though, it gave me little comfort. Well, there goes my chances of ever going out with Oliver...

I slowly backed away behind the shelves, hoping to God that Madam Pince would be too wrapped up in telling off Oliver to come after me.

"And which trollop were you conversing with so loudly, boy? Fess up!" I could hear Madam Pince shriek.

"Suzie Hennessey! And she was louder if anything! Go yell at her!"

That little rat! He...he ratted me out! Oh, shit. I can hear the clicking of Madam Pince's heels...and they're drawing closer...no...no...must escape...

"Ah, Suzie! There you are..."

I turned around and almost wet my pants from relief. Professor Lupin was standing at the end of the aisle, beckoning me. Oh, you don't need to tell me twice...I hurried over to his side, but just as I opened my mouth to ask him what was up, I felt a cold hand grip my shoulder. The old bat didn't even need to violently wheel me around to let me know it was her.

"Madam Pince!" I squeaked. "Hey"--

"Don't 'hey' me! This is a library, and"--

"Er, Irma...I'm sorry, but I really needed to see Suzie. We were just about to head to my office."

I think my mouth has fallen open. Was he saving me? Awww...screw Oliver...I don't need him! I have wonderful, sexy Lupin...the _real_ chivalrous knight!

"Remus..." Madam Pince hissed, at once removing her hand from my shoulder. "This girl has been disrupting the peace of my library, and"--

"I'm quite aware of that, Irma" Lupin replied. His mouth twitched ever so slightly. I'm almost certain he's trying to stifle a smile... "I could hear her myself, actually...but I really do need to speak to her, so if you'll excuse us"--

And Professor Lupin extended his hand out, again beckoning me to follow him. I looked fleetingly at Madam Pince, and saw that she was looking quite put out.

"But...but this...delinquent...she..."

"Right...don't worry, Irma. I'll talk to her about that."

Madam Pince looked skeptical and Lupin smiled. "I completely understand your concerns about maintaining the atmosphere of the library...and I'll make sure Suzie sees that. Don't worry..."

Madam Pince sighed. Defeat. Hah. "Only because it's you, Remus..."

_Only because it's you, Remus_? I bit my lip to keep from laughing as Madam Pince turned around and walked away. We made our way out of the library in silence.

"What Madam Pince was implying when she said that was that she knows me. I think I'm one of the few students to ever go through this school without incurring her wrath." Professor Lupin finally said when we were out of the library and in the corridors.

I couldn't help but giggle...Professor Lupin as a goody-two-shoes student who got along with Madam Pince...very believable.

"Right then. So, first thing's first," he said as we entered his empty classroom and made our way past the rows of empty desks and towards the door of his office, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take five points from Hufflepuff for your...er...disruptive behavior in the library. I know you don't want to see me siding with Madam Pince, but I'm afraid she's right...a library is no place to have loud arguments. People are trying to study there..."

I sighed. Fine. I should've expected as much. Big rule-follower, he is...

"So," he said as he held open the door to his office for me. Sigh. I love men who hold doors open. So gentleman-like. "You and Oliver had a row?"

"Well..." Wait. Hold on...how did he know?

He must've seen the confusion on my face, because he smiled. Double sigh. "I happened to be nearby looking for a reference book for my first year students, when you two started arguing..." he replied. "Cup of tea?"

"Sure..." I said as I plopped into a seat across from him. I watched as he poured tea into two porcelain cups. He has pretty hands. They're big, but not gruff looking. And there's some wisps of light brown hair, but not a whole lot...and he has long, thin fingers. I bit my lip, trying not to smile as all the possibilities of where those fingers might've been raced through my mind. I wonder if they've ever been used for groping women. Sigh. The thought of Lupin groping makes me want to groan. I wonder how many girlfriends he's had...Moreover, I wonder if he's ever slept with anyone...I mean, he's not married...but still...he's like...in his thirties. How could he not have done it with anyone yet? I mean it's possible...but there's no way he could be this cheerful and sweet if he were a thirty-something year old virgin. I mean, _I _get pretty grumpy about not having a sex life, and I'm only eighteen. But then again, that may be just me. Probably best not to inquire...the memory of me accidentally asking Professor Lupin if he was married is still fresh in my mind...

"So..."

I looked up from my tea, only to find Lupin looking rather expectantly at me. Er...oh shit. He wasn't delving into my mind just now, was he? Oh, nevermind, he can't have...I would've felt something if he had...plus he would not be looking relaxed right now if he had known in what manner I had been thinking of him...

"Well...uh...if you want to talk..." he said slowly. "Are you alright...with Oliver and whatnot?"

"Oh! Right...that. No..yeah, I'm fine." I said quickly, smiling stupidly at him. "We just got into a fight...so uh..my tutoring sessions in potions are done now...not that I need it anymore...I've gotten pretty good!"

Lupin smiled as he put down his tea cup. "Glad to hear about your success in potions. But...your fight with Oliver...it..er...seemed heated. I won't ask you to talk about it, of course...but if you wanted to, I'm all ears."

I couldn't help but smile. Probably even more stupidly than before. Gosh...he's so sweet! No guy ever wants to hear about my problems! Actually, no one wants to hear about my problems, except Denise. Sigh. I want to have your babies, Lupin.

"Well..." I started, trying to decide whether or not I should give him the digest version of what happened, "I got mad at him because he told his girlfriend about our tutoring sessions. I just don't think it's anyone's business, that's all. And well, he didn't seem to agree with me..."

I glanced up at Lupin, who was smiling slightly. A bit ruefully, really. "Ah..."

For once, I felt like I had nothing to say, so I took another sip of tea.

"So...Oliver has a girlfriend then?"

I looked up quickly at Lupin. "Sorry?"

He was still wearing that damn sexy rueful smile. "Are you upset about his girlfriend knowing about the tutoring or are you upset that there now exists a girlfriend?"

I don't know what else to do but smile stupidly. How does he know these things? Is it that obvious that I like Oliver?

"Both..." I muttered. Oh, I can't even look at him when I say it. I can't believe I'm talking about this with Lupin. My Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and I are talking about my love life. Well, lack of it, really...

"Madeline?" he asked.

"Yep."

"Ah."

"Yeah..."

"Well..." Lupin started, but he didn't really continue from there. I looked up and watched as Lupin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. I have a feeling he wants to be helpful but doesn't really know what to say. "Well," he started again, "I know you're hurting right now, and you probably hate Madeline right now"--

I couldn't help but laugh. "Professor Lupin, I've _always_ hated Madeline. Since the first day, really..."

"Oh...er...ok." Lupin said, sitting up straighter in his seat. "I...uh...suppose you're entitled to dislike whomever you choose..."

Well, if anything positive has come out of this whole fight with Oliver, it's getting to see Lupin all uncomfortable at having to hear me bitch about Madeline. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts. I bet he's going to get Mr. Propriety on me any second...

"Yeah, I'm sorry...but I've never been able to stand her." I said, putting down my now empty tea cup. "She's always been such a bitch"--

"Suzie, your language!"

"Oh...woops, sorry sir..." I said quickly.

Lupin shook his head as he put his cup down. "Nevermind...it's not appropriate to discuss your personal feelings with me about another student I teach."

I sighed. Knew it was coming... "Alright, sorry..." I muttered.

Lupin got up and walked across his office to a table near the door, where his briefcase lay. He fumbled with the latches for a moment, and then popped it open and began digging through it. "Listen, don't get too down about this. You're still young. You have plenty of time, and there's plenty of men out there for you to fall in and out of love with." he said as he rummaged through the contents of his briefcase. "Besides, who knows...maybe Oliver and Madeline are meant to be...maybe they aren't...but in any case...ah, here we are..."

Lupin shut his briefcase and returned to his desk, clutching a large bar of choclate in one hand. He was smiling vaguely when he sat back down and handed the chocolate bar to me. It was wrapped in golden tin foil, and it smelled positively...well, there's no other word for it: orgasmic. This is definitely a Honeydukes product.

"Honeydukes' finest..." Lupin said with a smile. "Have the lot."

"Oh! Thanks..." I took the chocolate, praying silently that I wasn't blushing. I mean, I've never gotten chocolate before from a guy...I peeled off the foil and broke off a small piece and popped it into my mouth. Oh, yum...I don't think even sex can be this good...

"Good, isn't it?" Lupin asked, his smile broadening. Oh gosh. I probably look aroused or something, and he probably finds that amusing... "I always preferred plain milk chocolate to anything..."

"Mmm..." was all I could respond with. My mouth was currently full of yummy goodness of milk chocolate and it was a bit difficult to produce words at the moment.

Lupin laughed a little. "Don't eat it too fast..."

"Got it..."

"But do eat the entire thing...you'll feel better."

I swallowed, and after a bit of hesitation, I replaced the chocolate in my pocket. "Are you suggesting that I eat away my problems?" I asked. "My mum's a healer and she said emotional eating is dangerous..."

Professor Lupin laughed. God, I love his laugh...It's so light and relaxed... "Too much of it, like anything in this world, is bad. But the occasional chocolate bar to make you feel better can't hurt, can it?"

"No Sir-ee..."

"Good. Alright...well, I should get back to work then...and you just take it easy, Suzie..."

I got up and headed towards the door. Halfway out though, I stopped and turned around to face Lupin. "So, Professor Lupin...since I'm like, really distraught and emotionally unbalanced at the moment"--

"You'll still turn in your homework tomorrow like everyone else..." he said without looking up from the paperwork he had summoned over to his desk.

"Worth a shot to ask..."

"And I commend you for your efforts."

I smiled and pulled the chocolate out of my pocket as I turned to leave again. "Good night, Professor Lupin..."

"Good night, Suzie..."

* * *

"You know, after all Professor Lupin's done for you, you owe it to him to at least finish his homework assignments the night before they're due..." Denise huffed over my shoulder as we ate breakfast the next morning.

"Chill..." I muttered, scribbling furiously across my parchment, trying to get in a few more inches in order to meet Lupin's 15 inch standard on parchment length for essays.

"He's so sweet..." Denise continued. "Giving you chocolate...getting you out of trouble with Madam Pince...I really hope he stays."

"He's got to..." I said, dipping my quill in Denise's ink bottle, "I mean, he's the best defense professor we've had...and he seems to really like it here...there's no way he can't stay..."

"Well...I hope nothing happens to him...that job is jinxed, you know..." Denise said, flicking a toast crumb off my paper. "No one ever lasts for more than a year..."

"Well...if he does end up leaving, I am so going to pursue him. At least it'll be ethical then..." I said, only to receive a slap on the arm by Denise in return. "What? He wouldn't be my teacher anymore. I mean, he won't be my teacher either way since we'll be graduating...but if neither of us were here...it'd be perfectly fine to date him, right?"

Denise rolled her eyes. "He's old enough to be your dad..."

I wiggled my eyebrows at her. "I know..."

"You're sick."

"No...just kinky."

Denise rolled her eyes again and returned her attention to her breakfast. Alrighty...almost done...let's just wrap up this essay now...

"In conclusion..." I muttered aloud.

"...Suzie is both sick and kinky." Denise said.

"Right...oh, damn! Denise! I actually wrote that down...damnit..." I muttered, immediately going to my bag to fish out my wand. The last thing I need is to turn in a paper to Lupin that concludes that I am "both sick and kinky"...

Denise giggled, but abruptly stopped almost an instant later. I found my wand and when I glanced over to see what had caused Denise to fall silent, I felt my grip loosen so my wand fell out of my hand and onto the floor. Madeline had gotten up from our table and had gone over to the Gryffindor table to join Oliver. He was sitting apart from everyone else, as he tended to do...except on game days or practice days, when he would walk around the Gryffindor table breathing down everyone's neck, probably giving last minute quidditch instructions to his team...

I watched Madeline take a seat next to him. He had looked up when she came, and smiled slightly at her, and then returned to his breakfast. Their mouths moved a little. What the hell were they talking about? What the hell _could_ they talk about? They had absolutely nothing in common...

"Hey, so remember how we were talking about causing a little hell earlier?" I said, turning back to Denise.

She put her fork down and looked at me suspiciously. "You want to...you want to carry out your plan?"

I grinned. "Yep."

She raised her eyebrows at me. "_The_ plan?"

"The one and only..."

She sighed. "Being friends with you is so trying sometimes..."

"Hey!"

Denise smiled slightly. "Kidding..."

"So...you want to do it with me?"

"Alright...let's go."

And what is this plan, you ask? Well, put it this was. Madeline Slutty-Long-Legs Johnson, you are going to be so sorry you ever crossed paths with Suzie Hennessey...


	7. The Weasley Boys Part I

_A/N: bows head shamefully I'm sorry….I took forever. Is there any point in blaming my exceptionally hectic life? Well, it's true. College life is crazy, especially when you're a senior. ( Anyway, as it always happens when I let my writing sit around for long periods of time, it always seems to take more and more writing to get to the endpoint that I want in a chapter. I was almost through with this chapter when I realized it was eighteen pages…and I still had a little more ways to go…lol…so I decided to cut it into two parts. Here before you is the first part. The second part will appear……--drum roll--…….right afterwards. And I finished both, so you can read one right after the other. Hooray for winter break and insomnia! )_

_

* * *

_

The Weasley Boys

* * *

Part I

* * *

I glanced wearily at Denise as the clock struck 6 o'clock in the library. Dinner would be starting right about now…

"As soon as you finish filling out your applications…" Denise said quietly without looking up from her own stack of papers.

I narrowed my eyes at Denise before turning my attention to my work. _Please provide any additional information about yourself that may assist us in evaluating your application_. Damn _Daily Prophet_. What else do they need to know about me? I've already filled out their stupid five page application, telling them everything about my academic records, activities, goals in life, and have even delved a bit into my personal life (while trying my utmost to sound professional when describing any influential men in my life, of course. And yes, I managed just fine. I _am_ capable of thinking about men in nonsexual ways, you know.) And now they want me to give them some additional information? I gritted my teeth out of frustration at my inability to think of any other things to say about myself. I've already submitted half a dozen writing samples—shouldn't that be enough? Maybe I can feign proficiency in some languages; that may help me out if they need a foreign correspondent. Only I'm not really fluent in any language aside from English. I know some Spanish and French, and a few phrases in Mermish (though why the Daily Prophet would ever have me interviewing merpeople is beyond me), but I'm not really fluent. Well, maybe if I embellish a little, just this once…

_Proficient in French and have basic knowledge of Spanish…_

I can buy some books over the summer and read up on it, can't I? I rolled up my finished application for _The Daily Prophet_ and glanced down at my next application. _Witch Weekly_. I made a face. It's a pretty stupid magazine, but it does well, and I heard that they had several openings for writers. Anyway, it might be fun. Who knows? Maybe I'll get to be one those witches who do the exclusive interviews with those hunky wizards…I sighed quietly at the thought of writing the "Wizards We Love" section…interviewing sexy international stars like Victor Krum, overseeing their photo shoots…maybe having a say in their wardrobe. I couldn't help but giggle as I imagined various famous quidditch players being forced to pose with their broomsticks, wearing—

My stomach rumbled rather loudly. Denise was already looking at me, slightly worn. "Oh, you're absolutely hopeless on an empty stomach, aren't you?" she said. I smiled innocently at her and nodded. She sighed. "Let's go take a dinner break then. Shall we?"

I sighed and dropped my quill onto the table. "Alright, if you insist…"

As we packed our things and headed out of the library, I listened to Denise talk excitedly about her job searches.

"…anyway, Professor Vector told me to stop by her office after dinner to pick up my reference letter." She said, lowering her voice slightly as we caught a glare from Madam Pince, "I do hope it was a good letter…I mean, I didn't really want to ask her…but arithmancy is related to my field, so I didn't really have a choice…"

I rolled my eyes. Denise was a freak of nature—a sweet one, but a freak all the same. "Denise, I'm sure it was fine! What could she possibly have to say against you? You have an O in her class…"

"Yes…but…I don't know," Denise replied, shrugging uncertainly, "it's not a very hard class"—

"Arithmancy?" I cut in, "Not a very hard class? Denise, that's like the hardest class in this bloody school! Everyone says so"—

"I thought Potions was the hardest class in the school…" Denise started. "I mean, I couldn't even scrape an A on my OWL back in fifth year. You actually got an O"—

"Well, it's all relative, isn't it?"

Denise and I jumped at the voice behind us, only to be very pleasantly surprised when turned around to see who it was. Well, I was pleasantly surprised at least. Denise was probably just surprised.

"Sorry to have startled you two," Professor Lupin said, laughing lightly. "On your way to dinner as well?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but Denise beat me. "Yeah, we are." She said quickly. "What did you mean by it being all relative, sir?"

He smiled vaguely as he joined us in our walk to the great hall. "Simply that everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses. What you may find easy might be extremely difficult for others, and vice versa."

Denise nodded. "So, where would you personally rank arithmancy?"

For the first time in my life, I was able to sigh exasperatedly at Denise. "He just said it was relative, and you're going to bar your academic experiences against his as a standard?"

Lupin chuckled. "And just for that, I'm not going to say how easy or difficult I find arithmancy. Now, I did hear you talking about that being related to your field. I assume you're talking about jobs?"

Denise nodded. "I'm applying for a job at Gringotts, so I asked professor Vector to write me a recommendation."

Lupin smiled. "Well, if you perform even half as well in arithmancy as you do in my class, Gringotts would be lucky to have you."

I bit down on my lower lip to keep from laughing as I watched Denise mutter a thanks while her cheeks turned pink. Professor Lupin might have noticed this too, as he cleared his throat and turned to me.

"And speaking of letters, I just finished yours. I'll be in my office for a few hours after dinner, so you're welcome to pick it up then." He said, as we reached the entrance to the Great Hall, where most of the school was already dining. Professor Lupin smiled and said goodbye, heading towards the faculty table, leaving us to make our way to the Hufflepuff table. As we neared the table, I saw Cedric Diggory passing a platter of steak to a first year sitting across from him. Mmm…steak…I love steak. So succulent and beefy…I swear if it were a guy, I'd marry it. I turned to Denise and was about to tell her about my fondness for steak, but then saw that she still looked slightly flushed…and rather pleased with herself. I grinned as I nudged her in the ribs.

"That Lupin's a sweet talker, isn't he?" I said, batting my lashes at her. She looked up sharply at me and I giggled.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"Oh come on," I said as we took a seat near the end of the Hufflepuff table, which was fairly empty now, "you know you liked it when Professor Lupin complimented you…"

Denise rolled her eyes at me. "Well, sure. Who doesn't like a compliment?"

I nudged her again in the ribs, this time receiving a slap on the arm in return. "Yeah well…you were positively glowing when he said it. You still are! I think somebody's joining the bandwagon!"

Denise cocked an eyebrow at me. "Er—what bandwagon?"

"The bandwagon of students who fancy professors!" I replied.

She laughed at me. "Suzie, you're riding that wagon alone. I don't know anyone besides you who fancy any of the professors here."

"Seriously?"

"Um…yeah. Well, last year half the girls fancied Lockhart…and remember back in our fourth year we had Professor Valiani and all the boys liked her…last time we had a female professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts too, now that I think of it…" Denise said. "But yeah…you're the only one I know who likes Lupin…by the way, how come Lupin is writing your letter? I thought you were going to ask McGonagall since most of the writing samples that you submitted are from her class…oh well…I suppose Lupin knows you better, and you're doing better in his class, aren't you?"

I nodded, and continued to listen to Denise as she began talking again about her worries of not getting a good recommendation from Professor Vector, as she was always late for class. I took a sip of pumpkin juice, thankful that I didn't have to give Denise a direct answer for why I asked Lupin over McGonagall for my recommendation letter. I was planning on asking her originally, as she is one of the professors who know my writing the best since we have to write essays in her class all the time. But then I chickened out. I hate to admit it, but I did. The prospect of asking Mcgonagall for any favours scared the dickens out of me. (I love using the word 'dickens'…I heard Ernie Macmillan use it once…Ok, I know he's like, thirteen or something, but he's very smart! Probably gets it from his father, the middle aged, intellectual dreamboat that he is…) Anyway, that's why I opted to ask Lupin instead. He's much more approachable. And he's more likely to embellish a little too in his letter. I mean, not a whole lot, because he seems like one of those law-abiding sorts, but just enough that it's not far from the truth. Oh gosh. I wonder what he wrote about me. Not that I'll ever get to know. Letters of recommendations are always kept sealed, and it would be horrible if Professor Lupin found out I'd opened his letter. But still, I wonder what he wrote…_Ms. Hennessey is a vivacious young witch, who always seemed to be fueled by everlasting wit and joie de vivre_…Alas, if only sycophancy were more becoming in Lupin…

Oh well. He's written the letter. What's done is done. Even if he goes an entire letter without calling me vivacious or witty (or I daresay 'sweet and adorable'), I'm sure he wrote something nice. Even so, I began to fantasize about all the _very_ nice things he could say about me, and had soon mentally written myself an entire letter that was littered with cute little innuendos. You know, if this job thing doesn't pan out, I should totally write romance novels. You know, the ones with those burly wizards on the cover who're grabbing at those women who look like Madeline Slutty-Long-Legs Johnson…All you need for one of those novels is creativity and a really dirty mind. I have both. I wish I had artistic skills. I'd have a more fun drawing those covers…

I spat my water out, down the front of my shirt as I felt someone pull on the strap of my bra, letting it snap against my back. For a brief moment, my heart seemed to have flung itself against whatever organs or tissues were in proximity to it (I'm guessing my lungs because I took a sharp intake of air), and I had this fleeting image of Oliver go through my head. But almost as soon as his face appeared, it had vanished. I knew it wasn't him…

"I love how you don't hex us like the other seventh year girls do when we sexually harass them."

It was Fred. Or possibly George. He was grinning mischievously, ignoring Denise as she glowered at him.

"Well, I'm not feeling particularly harassed by you." I replied, shifting slightly in my seat to face him. George, or possibly Fred, had come into my view.

"Might I add then that I love how you have extremely low standards for defining sexual harassment?" he said, making a swift movement to slide in between Denise and me.

Denise glared at him too, and then at me. It was a meaningless glare though. I know—I get it all the time from her. When she glares at me like that, she's saying, _this is the only way I can maintain a few more notches of propriety than you as you drag me into your pits of corruption. As long as I can at least give the appearance that I disapprove of what you do, it's sufficient to make me feel like I've still got more decency_. Oh well. As long as it gives her comfort…

"I'm guessing you two are here on business?" Denise asked in a hushed tone, turning to George—or Fred.

"Only if you are, love." Replied one of the twins—the one who had sat between Denise and me—"Still on for a galleon a night? At the astronomy tower after midnight—ow!"

I rolled my eyes as Denise elbowed him hard in the ribs. "Stop acting seedy, George (Ok, how did she know which twin?), you're better at comedy."

George grinned, unabashed. "That was comedy, dear Denise."

It was indeed. Watching Denise get mock-hit on by a fifteen year old was pretty amusing.

"Alright, before Denise throttles either of you, let's get down to business." I said, glancing at George and then at Fred.

Fred and George looked at me for a moment, and then looked at each other, and began to snigger.

"What?" I asked. I swear, this is the first and last time I'm ever coming to them for all my vindictive needs.

At last, Fred had cleared his throat and looked directly at me, very seriously. (or at least I think it was serious. It's hard to tell with these two…) "We don't _get down to business_ at the Hufflepuff table—no offense"—he added quickly, backing away slightly as Denise and I looked probably threateningly at him—"house-mixing during dinner just looks dodgy. Meet us on the sixth floor when you're done eating"—

"…over by the twin knights in shining armor." George finished, winking at Denise, who looked scandalized and rather violated. Poor thing…

I put an arm around Denise, partly for comfort but also to keep her from slapping George. "You should really stop while you're ahead, George…"

Fred shook his head somberly as George got up to stand by his brother. "Really, you women." Fred muttered. "If you were a few months older, many countries' muggle governments would call these insinuations punishable by law. George was not trying to imply that we were the knights in shining armor"—

"Though we graciously accept your compliments in mistaking us to be them…" George interjected, wiggling his eyebrows at Denise. How does she _not_ know she's being baited?

"…there actually is a pair of knights in armor on the sixth floor that happen to be rather shiny because George and I had to polish them last night without magic in our detention with Filch." Said Fred, smiling knowingly at us.

"So be there after dinner." George said, as he and his brother began to walk away.

"Skip dessert!" Fred shouted over his shoulder.

Skip dessert my ass. On the evening they serve apple pie? Denise and I took another twenty minutes to finish dinner and get through a few modest servings of pie. I love apple pie. It's so…hearty. And American. It makes me feel American. I mean, as close as I'd probably ever get to feeling American. I don't really have any intention of going there. Americans are such sexists…well, I _think_ so anyway. I mean, American women melt at the feet of the slimiest British wankers, simply because of their accents. Nothing wrong with that—I understand. I'm pretty weak for other European accents myself. But the thing is American men don't get all worked up over British women. It's just not fair. My accent's as good as any British man's…I don't see why they can't melt over me too. So in conclusion, I truly feel that there is no point in going to a country that views foreigners differently based on their sex.

"I suppose we should go and meet them…" Denise finally said as jabbed her fork into the crust of her half-eaten third slice of pie. She suddenly looked up at me, with a great sense of urgency. "I mean…we're sure we want to do this?"

I grinned as I made a grab for my book bag. "_I'm_ sure I want to do this. You really don't have to, Denise. I understand if you're scared"—

"I'm not _scared_." She snapped, sitting up straighter in her seat. "I was just hesitant, because you know, it's Fred and George…they're not exactly reputable for safety. What if we kill her?"

I couldn't help but laugh at the idea of Fred and George inventing lethal practical jokes. "I highly doubt it," I said as we got up and headed out of the Great Hall. "They've never succeeded in causing anyone serious pain, let alone killed anyone with their practical jokes. I think Madeline is relatively safe."

Denise rolled her eyes. "As long as you two share a dormitory, Madeline will never be safe."

We headed up one set of staircases, and as we were about to take the next one, I suddenly remembered that Lupin's office was on this floor.

"Oh! I need to get my letter from Lupin, Denise." I said as Denise went up on the next flight stairs. She stopped and turned around to face me.

"Oh, alright…I'll wait for you." She said.

"No, no…it's ok" I said quickly, not really sure why I wanted to go alone so badly. I suppose I'm just used to it. I don't think I've ever gone to see Lupin with anyone with me, even Denise…

"I'll meet you on the sixth floor."

Denise frowned. "What am I going to do with Fred and George?"

"Er"—I scratched my head, not entirely sure of what to do with that question—"wait with them?"

"What if they try something on me?"

I laughed. "They were only messing with you, Denise. Neither of them wants to get into your pants, so you're safe."

Denise turned pink, almost the same shade as when Lupin had complimented her. "I know…" she said. "But…they're annoying."

"They're Fred and George!"

"So?"

I rolled my eyes. "They're annoying in a fun-loving way. You'll learn to like it. I mean, you've learned to like me!"

"True…" Denise said, breaking into a smile, which I pretended to be annoyed with by making a face at her.

"Ok, go. I'll be with you in a few minutes." I said, waving off Denise and turning around to head to Lupin's office.

I shook my head, mentally laughing at Denise. I think she's actually a little scared of Fred and George. I can't really understand why. Sure, they pull jokes on people all the time, but it's always in good humour. Even the victims get a good laugh over it. And besides their prankster reputations, they're incredibly nice. And they can be so cute sometimes. I mean, cute in their behavior, not in their looks. Although I suppose they are pretty good-looking. They are Weasleys after all, and Weasley boys have a track record of being good-looking. Fred and George aren't too bad looking; Percy, I hate to admit, is actually pretty damn cute. I mean, with that big mess of curly red hair—seriously, sometimes I wonder if he even combs it—but the fact of the matter is his asshole-ness cancels out any cuteness he has. Shame, really. Little Ron Weasley is pretty hot too. Well, I should say he has hotness potential, since he's like, thirteen years old or something. Right, I shouldn't dwell on it then…Mr. Weasley (no surprise that I'd allude to their dad, of course) was pretty handsome in his day too. My dad's been friends with him for years now, and so he's got pictures of him as a younger guy, and let me tell you, he looked like an absolute playboy. Slick-looking dress robes, always one or two women holding his arms as they sipped on their firewhiskey…Of course, he couldn't have been a total playboy because you need to have tons of galleons for that, and as I understand, he never had that. Still…kudos to you, Mr. Weasley on being a sexy-looking youth.

You know who else is a fox? Bill Weasley. I don't even know where to begin…so perhaps I shouldn't. But he's gorgeous—I saw his picture in the Daily Prophet from when his family went to Egypt. Yum, yum. And Charlie Weasley…I vaguely remember him…he was a few years ahead of me…I think he was cute too. So there we have it. The Weasley men are beautiful specimens. Well, what do you expect? They're all redheads, and redheads are just beautiful.

I knocked on Professor Lupin's door when I had reached his office. I heard his quiet _come in_, and slowly turned the door knob and entered his office. He was sitting behind his desk, sipping from a large silver goblet that was smoking. It smelled rather disgusting. He forced a smile at me and gestured me to sit down as he continued to drink. I obeyed, and took a seat across from him. I know it's rude to stare, but I couldn't help it. I watched as he gulped down whatever it was he was taking. Very large gulps, as if he were in a hurry to finish it off. He had a pained look on his face too, so that seemed to confirm the notion I had that his drink probably tasted as gross as it smelled.

Finally, he finished and placed the empty goblet (which was still smoking) on his desk, shuddering as he did so. He then looked up at me smiling—this time genuinely—and apologized for not receiving me properly. Sigh. Such a gentleman.

"…It's just that I've been feeling under the weather these past few days, and this potion is the only thing that helps. Unfortunately, it's rather disgusting…" he said, looking at the empty goblet rather ruefully.

"What kind of potion is it?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Oh…just something Professor Snape whipped up for me. I've never been good at making potions, you see…"

I nodded. Ok. Not something he wants to share with me…

"Well, I'm guessing you came here for your recommendation letter…" he said quickly as he began to shuffle through his paperwork. "I've made a few extra duplicates, just in case you find some more jobs to apply for that require recommendations…ah, here we are…" he said, pulling out a small bundle of sealed letters and handing them to me.

"Great, thanks…" I replied, taking the letters. "And I'm sorry you're not well…"

Lupin laughed rather weakly. "Thank you for your sympathies. I hope to make a recovery sometime soon…"

"Well, I hope so," I replied, "Christmas is in less than a week. It would suck to be sick over the holidays!"

He laughed again. "Yes, it would _suck_," he said, "but when you're sick, you're sick. It's not a big deal though. It won't be the first time I've gotten sick over the holidays."

"Well, I reckon you should take better care of yourself." I said. "Don't work so hard."

Wow. I'm very good at this. He laughed yet again. "Thank you, Suzie. I'll try…"

"Maybe you should just lay off on giving so much homework to all your classes…that way, there's less for you to grade…less work…" I suggested, looking at him hopefully.

He smiled wryly at me. "You're very considerate."

"I try." I said, feeling myself glow. What? I can't help it. Lupin looked rather depressed when I came in, and now he seems cheery. And it's all because of moi. Soul mates? I think so…

"Good for you." He replied, smiling warmly at me. "Keep trying then. We don't have enough students in this school who do that."

Aw! So sweet! I want to get a shirt that says "I Heart Lupin" on it. Or perhaps some knickers or something so he doesn't actually _see_ it…I could feel myself smiling stupidly at him. Then I suddenly remembered that I was supposed to meet Denise, Fred and George on the sixth floor. Damn them. Oh, right…it was my idea to see them in the first place. A damn directed to no one then.

"Well, thanks Professor Remus—er—I mean, Mr. Lupin…er, wait…I mean, Professor Lupin…sir." I said quickly. Oh gosh. I'm a blundering idiot. No, I'm a blushing, blundering idiot. Doesn't get worse than that…

He looked at me rather dubiously, and then smiled. He opened his mouth to reply, but being the idiot I am, I continued to ramble…

"…anyway…er…I've got to run. I've—uh—got to see Fred and George…I saw them earlier, and…er…yeah. Have to talk with them…"

He looked like he was about to laugh, but was nice enough to turn his laugh into a cough. "Alright, take it easy, Suzie. And have a nice holiday."

"You too…" I muttered as I left. Geez. If I could just go one day without acting idiotic in front of anyone… I clutched my letters in one hand, and hurriedly shut the door to his office behind me with my other hand. Alright. Forget awkward behavior with Lupin. On to the sixth floor, where I shall plan my revenge against Miss Slutty Long Legs…

I hurried down the steps to the girls' dormitory, and shut the door behind me as I made it in. Thankfully there was no one inside. I tucked the bundle of letters away in my trunk for safe keeping—all except one. I pulled out my wand and pointed it to the seal on the one remaining letter in my hand. Ok, this is soooooooo wrong…I know I shouldn't, but…

"rupturus…" I muttered.

The seal fell away, and the letter opened itself. I could feel my pulse rushing as Professor Lupin's neat print handwriting came into view. I knelt down by my trunk and pulled the letter open all the way and began to read:

_I have been asked to evaluate Suzie Hennessey's potential as a candidate for your institution, and I am both happy and honoured to do so. I have known Suzie for less than a year, but in this short space of time I have been very fortunate as to become well acquainted with her not only as one of the best students in my advanced class, but as a bright and highly spirited young woman who would undoubtedly be capable of going above and beyond the expectations set for her in any task._

_As a student, Suzie demonstrates a strong understanding of whatever subject she is being taught—upon checking her marks in past Defense Against the Dark Arts courses, she has always maintained E-O ranged grades and has rarely fallen below these high standards she has set for herself. In addition to being a conscientious student who easily masters her learning material, she goes further than most of my students by taking a genuine interest in what she is learning. I find this particularly evident upon looking at her writing. I assign my students a fair amount of writing homework each week, and often see that aside from showing her strong grasp on the material, Suzie tends to add her own thoughts, shedding new (and often creative) light on the subject that always makes her work an enjoyable read. _

_Additionally, I have gotten to know the Suzie outside of class—an equally witty young lady with just as much of a creative mind as in the classroom. My interactions with her outside class are rarely limited to brief exchanges of formalities. She enjoys talking about things of substance, and clearly cares for the people she works with, students and faculty alike. Amongst my own colleagues, there is a general consensus that she is amongst the faculty's favourites, what with her lively temperament and her seemingly natural tendency to brighten any room with her bubbly presence._

_Viewed from any respect, Suzie presents herself as a bright individual who is determined to succeed in whatever path of life she chooses to take, and I hope that her candidacy is given every consideration._

_Sincerely,_

_Remus J. Lupin _

_Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

"reparo…"

The seal refastened itself over the letter, and it appeared as it has before I broke it open. I can't help but feel extremely warm and fuzzy inside. As I replaced the letter with the bundle in my trunk and hurried out the door to meet the others, I thought of how amazingly sweet Professor Lupin was. He did call me witty! Maybe no mention of being vivacious, but he called me witty! Despite my obvious lack of mental power in many situations, he still thinks I'm smart! I love this man…

* * *

"You know what? I'm starting not to care anymore about this. I think I'll leave you two to wait for Suzie alone…"

I bit my lip as I heard Denise's voice echoing through the empty corridor of the sixth floor. I reckon she wasn't expecting to wait so long for me. I heard Fred and George laugh in response.

"Well, even if you did leave, we wouldn't be waiting for Suzie alone, because we'd have each other…" one of the twins said.

"Anyway, we're not being serious. We're just practice-flirting…it just makes sense to practice on someone that you have no chance with, so you can do it properly when someone worthwhile comes along…" the other twin added.

"Well, practice on each other…" Denise replied. She had now come into view, as she had previously been standing behind the armored knights they were waiting by. She folded her arms over her chest and glanced in my direction. When she saw me wave at her, she dropped her hands to her hips and called my name. Hmm…she sounds slightly annoyed…

"Took you long enough…" Denise said as I joined them by the knights. "I should've known. If you were going to see Professor _Lupin_," putting an obvious emphasis on his name.

I instinctively hit Denise on the arm. Stupid thing to do in front of Fred and George Weasley. They shared glances, and then turned to me, looking at me rather knowingly.

"Old Lupin, eh?" one of them asked, nudging me hard in the ribs. Little brat. "Isn't he old enough to be your daddy?"

"Oh, shut it, Fred." Denise said, once again astonishing me how she can tell those two apart. "Let's get down to business…"

"If you two keep saying that phrase, we'll never get down to business." Fred replied nonchalantly.

"Too right." George chimed in. "we know it's business, but you don't have to keep reminding us. We're not stupid, you know…however we may appear…"

"Right, got it." I replied quickly. I just wanted to get this over with. "So…tell us about your latest product."

I glanced over at George, who had withdrawn a brown paper sack from his robes and had proceeded to open it. He pulled out a small toffee and offered it to Denise. "Token of my love…"

"I'm even less stupid than you." Denise replied.

"Clever girl." George said, turning to me. "Well, here it is. We're still playing with the names, but we're thinking of calling it the Ton-tongue toffee. Basically, it makes the eater's tongue swell up to ten times its normal size. Fantastic, innit? Want to try one to see how it works?"

"No thanks." I replied. "But you're sure it works?"

"Course we're sure." Fred snapped, as if I had accused him or something. "We would never sell you a defective product!"

"Your voice, Fred…" George cut in.

"Right. Sorry." Fred said, lowering his voice and glancing around to make sure no one was there. "Anyway, they work. We've been developing them for the past few months, and tried them on ourselves a few weeks ago. Now, the thing is that they're still in their preliminary stages…"

"Meaning?" Denise asked.

"Meaning…we haven't developed an anecdote yet…" said George.

I couldn't help but smile. "No anecdote necessary."

Fred and George looked at each other briefly. It was hard to tell if they were worried or excited.

"Who are you using this on? Tell us it's Montague…" said Fred, looking rather hopeful.

"…or Oliver Wood…" added George. "He's turned into a manic freak on a broom ever since we lost to you guys…"

"But I thought he was always a manic freak on a broom…" I said, trying to sound casual.

"Yeah, well…more so than usual…" muttered George. "We sometimes actually have to get up for practice before dawn. Crazy tosser…"

"Don't get us wrong. We adore Wood…" said Fred, "but…you know, his fondness for quidditch has reached very irrational levels, and it would be nice to put a stop to it soon…"

I grinned at the image of Oliver with a giant tongue. Must fight the urge… "Sorry," I said quickly, "you'll just have to keep dealing with it."

"So who's it for?" George pressed.

"You don't want us to tell anyone that we're making deals with you? Then we don't tell you who it's for." I replied. "Besides, there's a good chance you'll see for yourselves anyway…just look for the kid who's dragging their tongue around the school."

Fred and George exchanged glances again before sighing in unison.

"Deal." George said. "I'm guessing you don't care too much that we're not 100 sure that this is safe."

I shook my head, but then noticed Denise had a particularly concerned look on her face. She turned to me, her eyebrows raised in a worried manner. "Are you sure?" she asked in a hushed tone. "We don't want anything too terrible"—

"I'm sure it'll be fine…" I said. "Fred and George tried it on themselves, and they're perfectly normal!"

"Define 'perfectly normal'…" muttered Denise.

"Never mind her," I said quickly, turning to the twins. "How much for a dozen?"

"Ten galleons." Fred and George replied together.

"Eight galleons." Denise cut in.

Fred cocked an eyebrow at her. "Ten."

"Eight!" Denise repeated.

"Ten." Replied George.

"Nine?" I asked. What punks…I'm just trying to buy a prank, not a bomb!

"Ten."

I grunted in response. "Fine. Give me half a dozen for five galleons."

"Deal…" George and Fred replied together. Wow. Those two were seriously in cahoots with each other. George counted six toffees into my hand, and offered to give me an extra toffee free of charge if I somehow got Snape to take it, to which I politely declined.

"Do we even know if Madeline likes toffee?" Denise asked as we headed back to our dormitory, tucking away the toffees in her pocket to gift wrap in a fancy box later on.

I shrugged. "If it's a gift from her dearly beloved, she'll eat it."

"But I thought we were going to make it an anonymous gift…"

"Right. We will…but she'll probably assume it's from him. We can include a card with a cutesy sort of poem or something on it…"

Denise rolled her eyes. "You are cruel."

"When life gives you lemons, you're supposed to shut up and eat them." I replied coolly.

"Or in your case, squirt them in Madeline's eyes..." Denise said, grinning at me.

I made a face at her and told her to shut up, because I couldn't think of anything else to say. So she may be right. I'm probably not handling my lemons in the best possible way…but still. Madeline's a complete bitch. I mean, seriously…she's a horrible woman and somebody really needs to teach her a lesson. So…let that person be me. I'm happy to do it…free of charge.

* * *

I could just kill Madeline. I want to take my wand and shove it into her ear and have it come out the other ear. I rolled out of bed the next morning, ready to kill that awful woman for waking me up with her awful squeal. But when I stood up and brushed my hair out of my face, ready to tell her off for being a whore, I realized that in her lap lay a beautifully wrapped gift. A little too beautifully wrapped. Damnit, Denise. Boys can't wrap presents that nicely! Oh wait, hold on. She's ogling at her present like it was _Playwitch_ model. Huh. She's too stupid to tell. Well, that works out nicely…

"You're awfully chipper this morning…" Denise said as pulled her robes over her uniform.

"Well, did you see the look on her face when she got the candy?" I asked quietly, trying hard to hide my excitement.

Denise actually smiled at me. "This'll be one interesting last day of class…Has she eaten any yet?" she asked, glancing over towards the bathroom where Madeline was inside curling her hair.

I shook my head. "She smiled wistfully at the toffees, and put them away to get ready. I reckon she'll have eaten some by the end of the day. I wonder if she thinks they're from Oliver…"

"Oh, I think she does…" Denise said as she held the door open for me as we left our dormitory. "I could've sworn I heard her murmur his name when she was opening the box."

"Excellent…"

Well, not too excellent. We've already gone through Transfiguration _and _Potions today, and Madeline's tongue is still normal sized. Either I've been ripped off by Fred and George, or Madeline's on another diet and isn't eating the toffees. Ugh. That tramp is already paper thin, she could really stand to pack on a few extra pounds…

Maybe she really doesn't like toffee. What the hell. Who doesn't like toffee though? Well, Madeline is a bit of a freak. She doesn't like ice cream either. I glanced down the Hufflepuff table, where she sat with our other roommate, Sandy Nelson, a brunette who was as supermodel-looking as Madeline. No surprise they're friends. I bet they hold each other's hair back when they take turns throwing up in the loo after every meal...Anyway, they're just sitting there like normal. No sign of toffees anywhere. They suddenly got up, and I realized that class was about to begin. Fortunately, our last class before the holidays was Charms with Flitwick. We do the same thing every year in his class right before Christmas; we have a lesson for about twenty minutes, and then he gives up on his attempts to hold our attention and lets us kick back for the rest of the hour. Good times. I followed Madeline and Sandy out of the Great Hall and up the stairs that led to Flitwick's classroom, half wishing that Denise was with me. She had left lunch early to go finish her packing, claiming that there wouldn't be any time to do it tonight, because she would be busy helping me pack. Sigh. I should learn how to do things for myself; that way, I won't ever find myself out of Denise's company. I know this'll probably sound silly, but she's like my safety blanket. I tend to feel more secure when she's with me. Alright. I've officially wandered into the realm of cheesiness…

I found a seat behind Denise when I got to Charms, which incidentally was a few seats away from Madeline. Denise glanced over at me, looking at me meaningfully. Perhaps our moment has come. She turned back around to face Flitwick, who was handing back a quiz we took a few days ago. I could tell though that she was watching Madeline, just as I was. We watched her reach into her bag, pulling out her notes and then a quill. As she pulled out the quill, her bag fell back a little, revealing the box of toffees we had given her. It was opened, but all the toffees seemed to still be there. Please feel like you have a case of the munchies, Madeline, please…

Ten minutes into Flitwick's lecture, Madeline finally reached into her bag and pulled out a toffee. I tried as casually as I could to poke Denise in the back with my quill—though I must've been too excited and poked her too hard, because she jumped slightly in her chair and let out a squeak.

Professor Flitwick, who had been balancing himself on a stack of hardcover books while he gave his lecture, jumped in surprise from Denise's burst and nearly lost his balance.

"Are you quite alright?" he asked, looking squarely at her as Percy Weasley rushed forward to help him steady himself.

"Er—yes…sorry, sir." Denise mumbled.

I could see her bow her head down slightly in embarrassment, but almost a moment later her head shifted slightly in the direction of Madeline. I too turned to watch, and immediately my heart began to race when I watched Madeline quietly unwrap her toffee.


	8. The Weasley Boys Part II

_Part Two:_

Everything seemed to move in slow motion—it seemed like it took ages for Madeline to get the toffee into her mouth—and at first, it looked like the candy had been a dud. She had looked up briefly to make sure Flitwick wasn't watching before popping it into her mouth. I had expected there to be some sort of explosion or something, and for Madeline to immediately grow a giant tongue that would slither all along the classroom. (and in the back of my mind, I had pictured Oliver staring at her in revulsion, backing away from her and _accidentally_ falling into my arms). But nothing happened at first. Madeline just sat there, rolling the toffee around in her mouth, probably savouring it and thinking up the various ways she could thank Oliver for his sweet little gift.

But then it happened. Slowly. Her tongue flicked out once in the normal way that it does when you suck on candy, but when it came out again, it looked slightly bigger. I thought I was imagining things, because Madeline didn't seem to react. But then again, she's not particularly bright. After a few moments though, I saw Madeline's eyes widen slightly, apparently aware of the change taking place in her mouth. I thought she might scream or something, but she didn't. She stood up with a start, causing Flitwick to teeter once again from the surprise.

"Miss Johnson, what"—

Madeline let out a shrill scream as her engorged tongue spilled out of her mouth. Denise let out a gasp and covered her mouth, as did others. I think I just sat there and stared in amazement. It was just growing bigger and bigger. Incredible—

"Shit!" I screamed, falling backwards in my seat as Madeline's two foot tongue swung around in my direction, nearly hitting me. Poor Professor Flitwick wasn't quite so lucky. It hit him with an amazing thud, knocking him to the ground.

"Hospital wing!" I heard him gasp. "Not me!"—he muttered when Percy attempted to help him up—"Madeline! Take Madeline!"

"Right! At once, sir…" Percy said, rushing over to Madeline's side. I felt someone brush past me, and as I saw the person pass by, I realized it was Oliver. He joined Percy, putting one arm around Madeline, and using the other to help keep Madeline's tongue down. I was about to laugh when I saw the look on his face—rather repulsed—but immediately lost the temptation when I saw him shoot a contemptuous look at me before leaving the room with Percy and Madeline. This is so not the way I had planned it to go…

* * *

Sandy, Denise and I worked in silence in our dormitory an hour later. Well, Sandy was sitting on her bed brushing her hair and staring out the window. Denise and I were packing. Professor Sprout had come barging into Charms about twenty minutes after the Madeline incident, and demanded that the three of us go to our dormitories after class and stay there until further notice. When we made our way to the common room, we saw the other Hufflepuff girls of other years heading to their own rooms, and realized that they were all given the same instructions. So here we were, waiting for further notice…

"Suzie, what are you going to do with capris? You know it's usually cold in December, don't you?" she asked quietly as she stopped me from packing a pair of khaki capris into my trunk.

"Oh…right." I replied, replacing the capris in the bureau. Well, you can hardly expect me to be more involved with my packing…Sprout's coming in here any minute now, probably ready to expel me or something. She knows it was me who did it. I know it. Oliver gave me a nasty look which means he knew…so he probably turned me in. Or perhaps they knew that only Fred and George could have created such toffees, and went to them…and they probably fessed up. Or—

The door swung open. In walked Professor Sprout and—my stomach did several back flips—Snape and Lupin. What. The. Hell. Ok, this is probably the stupidest thing to be concerned about at a time like this, but I'm extremely conscious of the fact that I've got a thong lying on the floor near Lupin's feet. Think that's bad? It says "Brew it, baby" on the front and has a picture of a smoking cauldron under it. Forget Lupin's reaction. The potions master himself is standing about a foot away from it. I really want to lock myself up in the bathroom and hurl…I also kind of want to see how they'd react to seeing such undergarments…particularly Snape…

I could see both Lupin and Snape take in the sight before them (I couldn't help but wonder if this was their first time in a girls' room), and I immediately averted my gaze to my feet when I saw Snape glance at the underwear. Somebody just stick something really sharp in me now...I want to die. The only person who seemed completely oblivious to the awkwardness and tension in here was Sprout. She looked rather livid. Oh, I hate seeing her livid…

"Alright, as you three saw in your Charms class a few hours ago, your friend Madeline suffered from a serious enlargement of her tongue. It turns out, upon closer inspection by Professors Lupin and Snape, that this enlargement came from Madeline's mouth making contact with a certain type of toffee. And as it is, Madam Pomfrey cannot successfully cure Madeline until all remnants of the toffee is removed from her mouth, which will prove to be a very long and tedious task. Now, the question arises. Where did that toffee come from? We checked Madeline's bag and found a small boxful…it looked like a gift..."

"An anonymous gift," Lupin said, stepping over my underwear to come closer. I tried not to shrink back. Cannot look obvious… "Now, I questioned Madeline, and while she can't speak properly due to her current predicament, she was able to communicate to me that it was simply left at her bedside…that she found it this morning when she woke up…"

"You think one of us left it for her?" Sandy asked, standing up straighter.

"The only way those toffees could have been left for Johnson is if a female in Hufflepuff went into the dormitory and left it there." Snape replied, though he was eyeing Denise. "No male would have been able to reach your rooms without hindrance…"

"Or it could have been delivered by a house elf in the night…" Sprout started, turning to Lupin and looking at him questioningly, but he shook his head.

"A quick survey in the kitchens confirmed that no house elf came here last night or early this morning." said Lupin.

Professor Sprout clapped her hands together. "So there we have it. One of my girls must have sent Madeline the toffees. Now, I shall not jump to any conclusions based on who are friends and foes of whom…but I want you all to know that this is a very serious matter, and that if any of you have any information on who the perpetrator is you need to come forward and tell me. Do I make myself clear?"

Sandy, Denise and I nodded. Even though there aren't any physical indicators, I can totally sense that Denise's heart is pounding at about a million beats a minute right now.

"Very well. As you were then." Sprout said, turning to leave and gesturing for Snape and Lupin to follow. "Severus, Remus…"

* * *

Half an hour later, I sighed as I plopped onto my trunk. "You're an angel, Denise…you know that?"

Denise, who had fallen onto her bed, smiled tiredly. "Packing luggage isn't an intricate science or anything, Suzie…"

I shrugged and glanced over at Sandy, who was daintily folding up a cashmere sweater, and then turned back to Denise. I think we had the same thing going through our minds. It would be so nice if Sandy would just leave. Better yet, if Denise and I had this room to ourselves. We haven't been able to talk about the prank at all since it happened, as Sandy's been in the room the entire time. Well, now that we've got our packing out of the way…

"Hey," I started, making a grab for a library book that I spotted under Denise's bed, "we should really return this, or Madam Pince will have a hissy fit…"

"Ohh…right…yes, let's do that." Denise said quickly, following me out of the dormitory.

As we made our way to the common room, I could feel Denise's eyes on me. I had a feeling she was incredibly shaken up by this prank…shaken up by the fact that we almost got caught…

"Hey, we got away with it, didn't we?" I found myself saying aloud. I turned to Denise, who still looked rather worrisome. "What is it?"

She shrugged as we stepped out of the portrait hole and headed towards the library. "I hope Madeline recovers…I didn't think she'd have to stay in the hospital wing for so long…"

I shifted the weight of the book in my arms rather uncomfortably. "Well…it wasn't that long. Just a few hours…Madam Pomfrey will be able to fix her up soon enough. There's nothing that old Pomfrey can't fix. I'm sure Madeline will be up and about in no time, walking around like she's the heir of Helga Hufflepuff, and snogging Oliver in dark corners of the castle like there's no tomorrow…"

Denise didn't reply, so we walked the rest of the way in silence. As we made our way back to the portrait that guarded the Hufflepuff common room, a stringy little kid whose name I think was Zacharias Smith came tumbling out.

"You're Suzie and Denise, aren't you?" he asked rather aggressively.

"Er, yeah"—

"Professor Lupin wanted to see you two in his office."

"Right now?" Denise asked.

Zacharias rolled his eyes. "Obviously."

"You're better off not giving lip to two witches who could hex your pathetic little existence into oblivion with the wave of a wand." I snapped, pulling Denise away from the little brat and leading her towards Lupin's office.

"That was a little harsh, Suzie…" Denise said as we hurried down a flight of stairs. "He was like, a second year or something…"

"I don't care if he was a baby in diapers. That little toe rag was rude." I said as we reached Lupin's office.

Denise rolled her eyes in reply and simply knocked on the door.

"Please come in."

Denise and I looked at each other briefly before entering. We found Lupin sitting behind his desk as he usually could be found. However, he wasn't smiling pleasantly as he usually did. Quite the contrary—he looked rather grave. Ok. Slightly scared now…

"Sit down." He said.

Denise and I immediately took seats across from him. I wanted to look at Denise for some assurance that we weren't in trouble—that perhaps he was just in a bad mood and that it had nothing to do with us—but something told me that Lupin would notice if I looked at Denise, and I really wanted him to notice me as little as possible right now…

"Suzie," he started, turning to me, "I believe yesterday, when you left my office you had mentioned that you needed to see Fred and George. Is this correct?"

I nodded, not really sure of what else to do.

"Alright." Lupin said, folding his hands over one another and placing them on his desk, "And the very next day, Miss Johnson receives a mysterious box of toffees that causes her tongue to swell up. Now, I was called to examine Madeline in the hospital wing because there was suspicion that whatever it was she digested was a product of dark magic. I am certain, however, that it was simply a practical joke, as it had no seriously detrimental effects on the victim. Now, when you think of practical jokes, whose names come to mind?"

I shrugged. "Zonko's?"

Lupin turned to Denise. She shrunk slightly in her seat. "I'm guessing you want me to say Fred and George…"

He nodded. "They are quite reputable jokesters, and so it seems fairly logical to assume that they might have played some role in this fiasco. However, as Professors Sprout, Snape and myself pointed out to you all a few hours ago in your room, only a Hufflepuff could have done it. Now, Suzie…you said yourself that you went to see Fred and George last night. It's logical to believe that the Weasley twins are amongst the few individuals who could have concocted such a substance…and I also am aware of the ill will you hold for Madeline"—

"You think I paid Fred and George to make those toffees so I could give them to Madeline?" I asked, almost accusingly. I never knew the impulse to act defensively even when I'm guilty could come so instinctively to me…

"Frankly, yes." Lupin replied. "But I could never solidly prove that you did, unless Fred and George come forward and tell me the truth, which I obviously cannot force out of them. Incidentally, those two are the reason I didn't turn either of you in"—

"Me?" Denise squeaked.

Lupin waved a hand dismissively. "You two are as close as friends could ever be. I know what sort of loyalty that sort of friendship entails. If Miss Hennessey had a hand in this, I am almost certain that you did as well."

"Just because we're friends?" I snapped. "That's hardly a foundation for an accusation…"

"I'm simple expressing my suspicions, Suzie." Lupin replied, looking at me sternly. All his normal signs of warmth were long gone. "And as your professor, I believe that a greater show of respect is in order."

"As I was trying to say," he continued, "I kept quiet about my suspicions because explaining why I thought you did it would require me to bring Fred and George into the picture. And while I think it extremely irresponsible and immature of them to supply you with such products, I highly doubt that either of them were in cahoots with your plan, as neither of them have ever shown any signs of animosity towards Miss Johnson. However, they are just as accountable for this as either of you, and I'll be speaking with them later. Just know that I've caught you once, and do not expect me to ever cut you this much slack in the future. What you did to Madeline was extremely dangerous and immature, Suzie. She could have choked and hurt herself. She may have even hurt someone else."

Lupin then turned to Denise. "And while I'm not wholly surprised by your friend's behavior, I am extremely disappointed with yours. Suzie is your good friend, and it would have been in both of your best interests to keep her in check…tell her when she's out of line. You wouldn't be any less of a friend for doing so…"

We sat in silence for what seemed like several minutes, but only a few seconds in actuality. And after what seemed like eternity, Lupin finally dismissed us.

"And by the way, Suzie," he said when I followed Denise out the door, "I never accused you of paying anyone…"

* * *

As we walked back to the common room, all I could think about was the bundle of recommendation letters sitting in my trunk. He had been so sweet in his letter…I actually felt that he thought highly of me. Maybe he really does. Did. After that meeting, I'm guessing he doesn't feel so confident about me anymore. Gosh. I feel crappy now. He probably despises me now. He wrote so well of me, and I've let him down. Just thinking of all the nice things he had said about me makes me shudder. _She clearly cares for the people she works with…_Bet he's not thinking that anymore…Geez. I _really_ let him down…

"Denise…I'll be right back…" I said as we reached our common room.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Back to Lupin's…I just need to tell him something…" I said.

And without waiting for Denise's reaction, I rushed back to his office. So fast, that I had to lean against the wall outside his office to catch my breath. Man, I feel pitiful…I knocked on his door, and once again he beckoned me to enter.

"Ah, Suzie…What can I do for you?" he asked, sounding more polite than friendly.

I stood there, feeling uncomfortable and rather unsure of what to say. "Well…I…uh…I just wanted to apologize."

Lupin looked uncertainly at me, gesturing for me to take a seat across from him. I did so, and continued to speak, wishing to God that my voice didn't get so shaky when I was nervous.

"Apologize for what?" he asked.

"For…well, for how I acted…and the whole toffee incident. I feel bad about it. I shouldn't have done it, and I shouldn't have lied about it either…so…I'm sorry." I said, shifting uncomfortably in my seat.

Lupin shrugged as he reclined in his seat. "You needn't apologize to me; it's not my problem. My tongue is a normal size."

"I know"—I felt my cheeks burn from embarrassment—"but I just thought"—

"…that saying sorry to me would be much easier than saying sorry to Madeline, but would be just as effective in ridding you of the guilt you were feeling?"

"Possibly." I replied curtly, now extremely annoyed. No one asked him to delve into anyone's subconscious…it's none of his business…geez. Would it kill him to just accept my apology and let me be? Apparently so. Before I realized what I was doing, I had gotten up and gone to the door. "Fine"—I said—"Fine. Since you clearly don't want it, I take my apology back. Hope you have a swell holiday, professor."

I heard Professor Lupin start to protest my leaving, but I slammed the door behind me anyway. Part of me wanted him to come tearing out of his office, grab me by the arm and start yelling at me. But I knew he wouldn't pursue me. I sort of felt like I had won just now, the way I had forcefully slammed the door on him…but at the same time, victory has never felt so hollow.


	9. More Macmillan Men

a/n: duty calls me to the schoolbooks and whatnot…sooo…yeah, sorry about the very, very long wait…but I'm afraid that's what it's going to be like from now on. I'm determined to keep my sanity AND graduate. I'm being ambitious, I know…but I thought I'd try. Anyway, enjoy! )

* * *

More Macmillan Men

* * *

Oh, my bloody gosh. I wish I could just put a silencing charm on my parents. I mean, without getting hexed in return. I mean, seriously…when they get into lecture mode, there's just no stopping them. They've been lecturing me for the past twenty minutes on dementor safety and they won't be quiet. I'm almost tempted to endure a hex from mum to silence them…but then again…last time my mum hexed me for being disrespectful, my left buttock stung for a week….

"Are you listening, Suzie?" My mum asked for the third time since breakfast this morning. "Because I swear, if you come home without your soul, I _will_ say I told you so."

I rolled my eyes as I buttoned my jacket. "If I get my soul sucked out, I won't be able to understand you anyway."

Mum sniffed, looking thoroughly disheartened by my attitude. I couldn't help but giggle. "Sorry Mum. I swear I was listening to you. If Denise and I get cornered by dementors, I'll shoot my patronus and disapparate back home."

"I think you and Denise should agree on a central location to disapparate to…and you should link arms when you walk, so just in case, if need be, one of you can do aside apparition…"

"Oh, Mum…"

"Don't 'oh Mum' me!" Mum snapped. "Diagon Alley is being patrolled by dementors—they're all over the place! And I don't care how safe Fudge thinks he is, they're dangerous!"

I gasped. "Seriously?"

Mum glared at me, and pulling out her wallet, she handed me a bunch of galleons.

"Denise and I will be careful." I said, trying hard not to grin at my mum's paranoia. I was failing miserably though. I couldn't help it. I'm seventeen bloody years old now! I can take care of myself…

"Swear on your Defense Against the Dark Arts homework you'll be careful?"

I glared again at Mum. She knows how much I adore Professor Lupin (she also knows what I mean by 'adore' too. I still haven't forgiven Denise for letting it slip…) And she knows about the whole Madeline debacle, and how I can't stand the fact that Lupin's disappointed in me.

"I'm leaving now." I said, trying to ignore the smug look on my mum's face. Urgh. I would much rather take the ass-whooping for my prank than to endure my mum's smugness. She didn't punish me for my prank, because she said having to endure the disappointment of a man I'm in love with is punishment enough. Geez. What kind of mother is she? She's supposed to discipline me when I do something bad, not taunt me. This is what happens when there isn't a large enough age gap between a mother and daughter. Mum had me when she was twenty. Dad was forty. I think the origins of my fetish for older men as suddenly become clear. It was inherited, not acquired…but anyway, yeah. Mum isn't very mother-like much of the time…

"Be home for dinner" she replied, looking squarely at me. "If you're not home by seven, I'm sending a search party after you."

"Fair enough."

I pocketed the money Mum gave me, and concentrating hard on the image of the sign outside The Leaky Cauldron, I disapparated with a pop. I apparated in front of the pub, and after taking a moments to catch my breath, I glanced around for Denise. She wasn't here yet. Figures. Her parents were twice as protective as mine, and were probably giving her a safety lecture twice as long as the one I had to endure. Probably also giving her tips on how to escape me in case I tried to get ourselves in trouble or something. It's not that they don't trust me…well, actually, it's exactly like that. They like me enough to let me spend every waking moment with Denise, but they don't trust me much. Understandably. I have a long history of breaking lamps in their house, and er…breaking their house rules (like trying some of her dad's muggle champagne when we were underage), and taking Denise down with me on numerous occasions.

Denise apparated a few feet from me. I couldn't help but grin when I saw the sickened look on her face. She still wasn't used to apparating either then. We both passed our apparition exams over the summer, but didn't have much time to get the hang of it because school started, and there's anti-apparition charms on Hogwarts. Anyway, yeah. Apparating feels really weird, and sometimes I would just prefer walking or even flooing (or even going by broomstick if I were a better flyer, or at least had someone to ride on me—er—I mean, _with_ me.) But apparating is a big time saver, I'll admit…

"Sorry I'm late…" Denise breathed, walking over to join me.

"No worries." I replied. "I just got here myself."

"Ok…so where to first?"

I glanced around, taking in the holiday bustle. I still needed to buy a present for my uncle Jack, the guy who owns Quality Quidditch. Sigh. Quidditch. If only fate had been working in my favor, I could be worrying about getting Oliver a present too. But alas, the only men I'm shopping for are my uncle and father. Oh, and Cedric. He's coming over to our house for a Christmas party. Apparently, we're like, third cousins, twice removed or something…So our families are all excited about figuring this all out and now they want to do the whole family bonding thing. Well, I guess I can cross Cedric off my list of back up boyfriends in case I'm still single by the time I'm forty. I mean, we've always been platonically close. Now we're family. Gross.

"I still need to get a present for Professor Vector…" Denise said, digging out a slip of parchment from her purse. "I think I'll just get her chocolate…let's go."

I followed Denise through the crowd. "Wait—why are getting Vector a gift?" I asked suddenly.

"Oh, well…she wrote me a recommendation letter…so it's just sort of a thank you gift as well as a Christmas gift."

"Oh." I replied. Damn. I completely forgot about social protocol. Thank you notes, gifts, of course…Damn. How did I not think to do that? Oh, double damn. I didn't exactly leave on good terms with Professor Lupin—it might be weird giving him something. But I do owe him. I mean, he did write me a really sweet letter, and he's so nice as a person…I wonder how he'll react if I send him something. Maybe he'll forgive me for how I treated him and how I acted towards Madeline. Well, cancel the latter. Our parting words are emblazed in my mind. "_It's_ _not my problem. My tongue is a normal size."_ Ugh. That was like a jab in the gut, and I hate it. I know none of this is his problem….the problem's between Madeline and me. I just wish he didn't have to go and disapprove of it…Ok, I know he did. And I know he was right. I'm selfish and don't want to apologize to Madeline. And I tried making my conscience feel better the easy way, apologizing to him. While I'm thoroughly annoyed at how guilty Lupin's made me feel, I am also totally floored. That man can switch to friend to authority in sixty seconds. Amazing. And I have no idea why, but I find that incredibly sexy. Well, that's settled then. Professor Lupin is getting a big box of chocolate for Christmas from me, whether he likes it or not.

"Hey, Denise"—I started, following her down a particularly crowded aisle in Snape's Sweet Shoppe (the owner, Samantha Snape, has no relation to Professor Snape. Believe me, I asked her myself.)—"I should get something for Professor Lupin…he needs a Christmas/thank you gift too."

Denise cocked an eyebrow at me. "But didn't you have a row with him before we left school?"

"Well"—

"You told me you apologized to him, and then took your apology back, and then slammed the door on him…"

I sighed. "Fine. A Christmas/thank you/sorry-for-being-a-bitch present all in one. Will a box of chocolate do?"

Denise laughed. "Only if it's a big box." She said, picking up a box of dark chocolate and examining it. "What do you think?" She asked, holding out the box to me.

"Professor Lupin likes plain milk chocolate the best." I said, putting the box back.

Denise rolled her eyes and picked it up again. "Not for Lupin, for Vector!"

"Oh! Ok…well, I don't know…"

"How do you know Lupin's chocolate preferences?"

"He told me once."

"Really, when?"

I picked up a large box of milk chocolates and headed towards the checkout counter. "A few weeks ago. In the astronomy tower. At midnight…"

"Oh, Suzie…"

"It was just one night of hot, steamy passion…and he told me…discussing chocolate makes for excellent pillow talk." I continued.

Denise shuddered, and the salesman who was servicing us looked slightly repulsed at overhearing me. I couldn't help but giggle. We decided to stop at Quality Quidditch to say hello to my uncle, and so the rest of the way there, I entertained (ok—more liked horrified) Denise with stories of my fictional midnight escapades with Professor Lupin.

* * *

"Have another biscuit, m'dear!"

I watched my uncle Jack pass the plate of tea biscuits to Denise, who took another one rather hesitantly. I pursed my lips together, trying to keep from laughing. Uncle Jack had made them himself, and well…let's just say he has a particularly strong sweet tooth. Poor Denise was too polite to decline them, so she was stuck eating her third biscuit.

"Good girl!" said Uncle Jack, winking at Denise. "We'll have you fattened up to Suzie's size in no time!"

I glared at him. "I'm not fat!"

Uncle Jack and Denise chuckled. "Of course you're not…" said Jack, dusting crumbs off his lap as he stood up to get back to work. Hmph. This is what I get for messing around in Uncle Jack's shop. I was helping him unload a new shipment of detachable comfort seats for long-distance broom-riding, and I thought it would be fun to sit in one of them, just to see if they were really comfortable. Anyway, my butt got stuck in it. And those seats were supposed to be one-size fits all. Denise and Jack had one hell of a time watching me trying to pull it off. Geez. So I have a big bum. That doesn't make me fat. Stupid magic folks…so hung up on body image. Here's where we can take a leaf out of the books of muggles—they don't think big arses fat. They appreciate it. Hell, they even write songs about it. I wonder if Professor Lupin's noticed my butt…if so, I wonder what he thinks of it. Does he favor the round posterior or not?

"Well, if I ever turn anorexic, it's going to be your fault…" I said, casting a glare at Uncle Jack as he went over to the front window to adjust the Firebolt that was on display. I thought briefly of Oliver, wondering where he was right now, what he was doing…maybe he was in Diagon Alley right now, doing last minute Christmas shopping too. Then I thought of Madeline, realizing he probably bought _her_ a Christmas present. Probably got her a necklace. Or earrings…dangly ones, for those little lobes of hers…

"I swear" Uncle Jack huffed, still directing his attention to the Firebolt. "This is the last one I've got left, and people are treating it like some old Shooting Star…always touching it, poking the bristles…I have to groom it at the end of almost every day to keep it looking new!"

"You only have one left?" Denise asked, joining Jack and me by the window. "Wow, they must be selling fast!"

Jack shrugged. "I only had a few to begin with. They're so expensive…but they did go pretty quickly. Sold one just yesterday, actually. Strange order though. A cat came in here with the money and a note from its owner to send it to someone at Hogwarts."

"Really? Who?" I asked before I could stop myself. I saw Denise glance at me, smiling slightly.

Uncle Jack laughed. "Bad business ethics if I told you. But I can tell you that kid's going to be having one hell of a Christmas!"

Just then, the door swung open, and I could feel my heart doing a back flip. It was Oliver. He had one shopping bag in his hand. It was a small bag, and from what I could tell of the small bulge in it, there was a tiny package in it. (And I mean the bag, not Oliver.) It was probably a gift for Madeline. I could feel myself burn a little with jealousy. Ok. So I don't even like jewelry. Still…when a guy gives a girl jewelry, it means something.

"Oliver, m'boy!" Jack exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "What can I do for you today?"

"'Lo, Jack." Oliver replied. "I was just doing some Christmas shopping, and I thought I'd pop by."

Jack chuckled. "You mean you didn't come here to look at the Firebolt?"

Oliver colored slightly, but smiled all the same when Jack led him toward the window. I tried to stay cool. I really did. I was going to casually slip into the back of the store to grab my things and make a quick getaway. But apparently Denise wasn't on the same page as me, as I had begun to quickly back away, I accidentally tripped over Denise's foot and fell backwards, knocking over a small shelf full of broom-servicing kits.

"Suzie!" I could hear Uncle Jack and Denise shout at the same time. I had barely opened my eyes when I felt Jack's gruff hands helping me up.

"_Do_ watch where you're going." Jack said, pulling out his wand and pointing it at the mess I made. "Reparo."

"Sorry," I muttered,' feeling my face turn red. Honestly, of all people to do that in front of… I chanced a glance at Oliver, who was still standing near the Firebolt display. He looked smug and amused. Ugh. Fine. Madeline can _have_ you, asshole.

"Oh—Oliver, m'boy—I'm sorry! I didn't even introduce you," my uncle said, grabbing Denise and me by the hands, and pulling us forward. "This is my favorite niece, Suzie"—he said, patting me on the shoulder—"and this is her friend Denise. Maybe you already know them…I think they're about the same age as you…seventeen?"

Oliver nodded. "We already know each other. Same year."

"But different houses." I said.

"But we've had some classes together" Denise added.

There was a moment of silence, where Uncle Jack glanced at the three of us warily. "Ok." He finally said with a sigh. "Who walked in on who naked?"

The three of us gasped at once.

"No one!" Denise exclaimed indignantly, looking surprisingly shocked at my uncle's ability to say that. Honestly, she should know where I get my pervyness from.

Uncle Jack chuckled. "Right then. Just wondering where the tension was coming from. My only other guess then is that you lot are from different houses."

Oliver rolled his eyes. For some reason, that really irked me. "Yeah, I'm in Gryffindor" he said.

Uncle Jack nodded. "Hmm…I thought the ultimate tension was supposed to be between Gryffindor and Slytherin, not Gryffindor and Hufflepuff…"

Denise laughed. "There's hardly any tension between our houses…"

"Except with Quidditch." I muttered, secretly wanting to get into a fight with Oliver. I have no idea why. I know nothing about Quidditch except men look incredibly hot when they play it, yet I want to argue with Oliver Wood—quidditch's wanton lover. Maybe he won't be baited. Oh no—wait—he's been baited. I see the spark in his eyes.

"Well, plenty of reason to be tense. Quidditch is a serious game. Not that you'd know anything about it."

"I'd defend you, doll," Uncle Jack said, glancing briefly at me as he adjusted the display I had knocked over moments before, "but I'm still mad at you for your clumsiness. Plus he's right. You don't care two straws for the sport."

"Hey, leave her alone, Suzie knows _some_ things about quidditch!"

I glanced at Denise and tried not to shudder. What was she trying to do? Further embarrass me in front of Oliver? I know next to nothing about the bloody sport. Sigh. Ok. I can do this. I'm a bonafide bull-shitter.

Oliver smiled slightly. "Right. I suppose knowing one end of a broom from the other _could _count as quidditch knowledge. Great job, Suzie. If you were a Gryffindor, I would make you the next captain."

I'm not sure how to feel about that. Is he teasing me or trying to be mean?

Uncle Jack chuckled, patting me on the shoulder. "Oh, our Suzie knows a little more…I think she may know how to fly too!"

I glanced at Uncle Jack as he and Oliver laughed. "I _do_ know how to fly! I know I'm not exactly quidditch material, but I _can _fly."

Oliver nudged Uncle Jack in the arm. "Our first year, when we had riding lessons, Madam Hooch had to dismiss class early because she had to go to the hospital wing—Suzie had flown right into her, knocking the air out of the woman."

Denise put a hand on her mouth, obviously trying to stifle a laugh. "I completely forgot about that!" she said. Oh, load of help, Denise.

Uncle Jack chuckled again, putting an arm around me. Ugh. I just wanted to slap his hand away for laughing. "Eh, well…our Suzie probably couldn't catch a snitch to save her life, but she's a right genius. Try having a debate with her on any subject and she'll give you a run for your money. I swear, if she were more socially awkward, she could have been a Ravenclaw."

Aw, well…that was sweet. Ok, Jack's back in my good books.

Oliver cocked an eyebrow at me. "Really?"

Prat! How dare he look skeptically at me! I'm smart! Sorta…

"Yes, really…" I replied, trying to sound cool. I waited for him to reply, possibly with something to test my wit. Or was he waiting for me to say something witty? He smiled at me. And it wasn't even sexy. Geez.

"I think my money's safe." He said, glancing down at his watch. "Anyway, I've got to get going. Good to see you Jack, and uh…well, see you guys at school." He said, nodding at Denise and me. We said bye to him, and as I watched him go, I felt a rush of anger and embarrassment crash over the butterflies that were settling in my stomach.

* * *

An hour later, Denise and I had split up, as we both had quite a bit of shopping to do, and we're not very productive shoppers when put together. I was in Flourish and Blotts, looking for a present for Denise, actually. She loves office supplies—I mean, to the point where it's like, almost a fetish. Anyway, I thought I'd get her some really cool quills. Maybe scented ones with some kind of floral scent to it. She's definitely a floral girl. After scanning the shelves for a few minutes, I finally settled on a bunch of quills—each smelling like exotic flowers I'd never heard of—and I headed down to the aisle of ink bottles. She would love coloured ink. I picked out a few bottles of girly ink colors (pink, purple and baby blue). I glanced at some of the other ink bottles…they had all sorts of designs and shapes…one of them actually had a little snitch shaped cap on it. I picked it up to get a better look. Oliver would like this…or would he? I'm not quite sure…he doesn't seem like the type to collect cutesy quidditch-oriented paraphernalia. Although I did hear once that he owned a pair of boxers with a beater's bat and pair of bludgers on the front with the word 'beater' written across it. No idea where that rumor started or even if it's true. Not that I'm really concerned with Oliver's underwear status anymore. As of today, I'm completely over Oliver Wood. He is a mean jerk. I mean, the fact that he actually remembers my broom-riding incident from first year just illustrates his assholeness. And the fact that he's shallow and stupid, going for someone like Madeline Johnson gives me more reason to not like him. I don't like stupid guys. I like'em smart…like Lupin-smart. See, _Lupin_ is boyfriend material. Not Oliver Fuckwit Wood.

"Hoping if you hold that bottle long enough, some of its quidditch-like attributes will seep into you?"

Surprisingly, I didn't jump or do anything klutzy. I put the ink bottle down on the shelf and turned around to face Oliver. He was casually dribbling a lime green ball that was slightly bigger than a snitch. For some reason, I just couldn't think of anything to say to him. So I just stared at his ball. (…if I was more attracted to Oliver, I would crack a joke about that, but I'm not. I'm annoyed with him right now.)

"Who's Wilson?" I automatically asked when I saw the name printed in bold black letters on the front of the ball.

Oliver shrugged. "Maybe the former owner of the ball."

"You stole that from a random guy named Wilson?"

"Found it. I think it's used for muggle sports." Oliver replied.

"Right." I replied. What the hell. Why am I being civil with him? He's an asshole…

"Hey!"

I couldn't help but grin. While Oliver was dribbling his stupid ball, I snatched it from him. Yeah, I don't know what's wrong with me…

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

I felt the ball. "It's hairy…" I said with a laugh.

"More like fuzzy…" Oliver replied. "Where are you going?"

I had walked off with my gifts for Denise towards the checkout. I opened my mouth to reply, but decided against it. Let's see how he likes getting the cold shoulder…

I paid, and quickly left the store with Oliver at my heels…

"Give me back my ball!" Oliver demanded, trailing after me.

"You need two of them, mate." I replied. God, that felt good to say.

"What the hell is your problem?"

Oh. My. God. He's asking me what _my_ problem is? "Are you serious?" I asked. "Me? The bumbling, idiotic klutz who has broomstick accidents? The ditz with the attention span of a moth who can't even master potions!"

"Ok!" Oliver exclaimed impatiently. "I didn't ask for the list!"

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"You're the jerk who said all those things to me!" I exclaimed, fighting the urge to chuck his stupid ball at him. "You owe me an apology!"

"I owe you an apology?" Oliver asked indignantly. "You're the one who brought this whole rift between us…getting all worked up about your tutoring sessions. You're the reason I got tricked into thinking I could get a Firebolt. You're the reason why Madeline's in pain every time she tries to eat or drink something, and you're the reason why I have to always hear about it! I think you owe me an apology!"

"Don't put Madeline's problems on me"—

"I'm not stupid, Suzie. I can add two and two. You feel insecure around Madeline, you always have. She told me so herself. And I know how women are…the minute you meet someone smarter and prettier than you, you automatically hate them. So you're jealous of her, and you were the one behind that whole toffee"—

I slapped him. I just slapped Oliver Wood. I didn't know how else to shut him up, so I slapped him. He looked at me like…well, like he had just been slapped. I felt a twinge of guilt as he looked at me with mingled surprise and hurt. But it melted almost instantly and was replaced by an angry glare.

"You're a freak, Hennessey. I don't want your worthless apology anyway." He said, backing away slowly and then turning to walk away.

"I don't want yours either!" I called back after him.

He kept walking, but raised two fingers at me, flipping me off.

"Go to hell!" I yelled, chucking his ball at him as hard as I could, ignoring the passersby who were watching the whole scene.

I seem to have excellent aim. I got him right in the head. He grunted when the ball hit him, and turning around, he looked wildly at me. The ball had bounced off his head and rolled back in my direction. He glanced down at it, and for a moment looked like he was going to get it, but then he glanced up, glared at me again, and walked away.

When he rounded the street corner and was out of sight, I went over and picked up the lime green ball and pocketed it, taking a moment to bow my head and wipe my eyes against my shoulders. I was going to meet Denise in a little bit and didn't want her to see me crying…

* * *

"Suzie, you are absolutely mad." Denise muttered as we followed our parents towards platform 9 ¾ at the end of the holidays.

Did you just figure that out?" I replied back, watching my and Denise's parents discuss the latest news on the Sirius Black hunt.

Denise shrugged. "I always knew you were a bit mad, but now it's all out in the open for everyone else to know about…Oliver knows."

"I don't care what he thinks of me. I don't care about him."

"So you're indifferent to him?"

"Yes."

"You slap people you're indifferent to?"

I was about to tell Denise to shut up, but when I glanced up to look at her, a group of men standing a few feet behind us caught my eye. Ernie Macmillan…and his dad. His silver-fox-of-a-sexy-I-want-to-be-your-young-tart-of-a-mistress dad. And of my _God_ does he look nice in burgundy robes.

"Ah, the Macmillans…I should've guessed." Denise said, glancing over her shoulder to see what I was ogling at. "Hey who's that with them? Is that Vince?"

I unglued my gaze from Mr. Macmillan's profile to glance at the younger man with him, who was in fact Vince. Vince Macmillan to be precise. Ernie's older brother, who had graduated from Hogwarts a few years before us. Huh. I did not recall him looking _that_ hot. He looks so sophisticated, just like his dad. Geez, their whole family looks sophisticated. And rich. I can totally see them living in some old ivy covered mansion, with furniture all made of either dark polished oak or some rich sort of leather. Mr. Macmillan probably has this amazingly elegant looking study with lots of dark red velvet and leather-bound books in there… I sighed, imagining Mr. Macmillan sitting in his study, in a dark red robe, smoking a cigar while he flips through some old, antiquated volume on magical history. I wonder what he would wear under those robes…

I glanced up again at that masterpiece of a family. Vince was staring at us. His look seemed to be of mingled curiosity and amusement. Huh. He finds us interesting? I could feel my mouth twitch with excitement as I quickly averted my gaze. I glanced over at Denise to see if she had noticed. She was blushing furiously and looked rather flustered.

"Er…when's the train leaving then?" she asked, looking at the ground as she adjusted her sleeves.

"11 o'clock" I said with a giggle, "as it always has." I glanced back at Vince. He wasn't looking at us. He had his attention turned to his father, who was addressing his sons in a serious tone. My, does he look good when he's serious. Er. Anyway. I watched as Vince listened to his father, nodding occasionally in acknowledgement of what he was saying, and then, he glanced at us again. Well, not us. At Denise. He was definitely looking at Denise. And just as quickly as he had glanced up, he averted his gaze back to his father. And a moment later, he repeated the whole cycle.

Poor Denise was blushing profusely. I couldn't help but grin. Their kids would be gorgeous. I fanned myself even though the air was freezing. "My, it's getting hot out here…" I said, winking at Denise, who in turn looked reproachfully at me as she picked up the handle of her trunk.

"We should go find some seats…" she said, and before I could reply, Denise had hurried off to say goodbye to her parents, and then turned to go find some seats on the train.

I glanced up at Vince, who was shaking Ernie's hand, probably bidding him goodbye. He sure was good-looking. With a sigh, I grabbed my own things and turned to my parents to say goodbye to them. After I had done so (and promised my mum I wouldn't try hitting on any of my professors), I headed out to board the train. As I climbed the steps of the train, I heard a heavy, gruff voice that sounded slightly familiar a little ways from me.

"Now don't you forget what I talked about, Oliver…"

I glanced over my shoulder and almost tripped on the steps of the train. It was Oliver and his dad, and gosh he's just as intimidating-looking as I remember. Oliver shrugged in response, digging his hands into his pockets. Mr. Wood in turn leaned in closer, and hissed something at Oliver that I didn't catch. As he pulled away, he looked at his son challengingly, and then stepped back so Mrs. Wood could bid her son farewell. Oliver, whose countenance looked rather stiff at the moment, softened considerably for his mum. She smiled weakly, and saying something quietly to him, she got on her toes and pulled Oliver in for a hug, giving him a kiss on the cheek. As they pulled away from each other, Oliver glanced up, and our eyes met briefly. His face hardened as his cheeks turned pink. I immediately turned away, now feeling slightly embarrassed that I had observed the scene with his parents. I doubt he'd have wanted me to see that, especially the bit with his dad…

"Suzie!"

I glanced up, and saw Denise's head bobbing out of one of the train windows. "Come on! I've got seats saved!"

I hurried up the steps of the train and soon found Denise. I dropped my bag in the seat across from her and stood silently for a moment.

Denise glanced expectantly at me. "Er"—

"I…I'll be back."

I turned on my heel and left the compartment, just in time to see Oliver boarding the train, sliding into a compartment a few feet from ours. I followed him, not quite sure what I was doing, or what I was going to do. I just knew I was feeling bad about it. It being everything. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I felt myself saying the things I said to Professor Lupin a few weeks ago, and I imagined Oliver reacting the same way. But would he? He doesn't seem nearly as astute as Lupin…but I could be wrong. All I know is I hate this…thing…whatever this is I've got going with Oliver.

I knocked on the compartment door, biting my upper lip nervously, half wondering if it was too late to run.

"It's open…" came Oliver's voice. Damn. Too late. I slid open the door, and to my surprise, found Oliver sitting by himself.

"Hi" I said. Well, squeaked, more like it.

He didn't reply. Um…ok. I want to bolt.

"Can I join you for a bit?" I asked.

Oliver shrugged, pulling out a copy of _Quidditch Illustrated_ from his pocket. It had a picture of a woman on the cover—she was wearing a bikini and a witch's hat, and was straddling the new Firebolt. Soooo tempted to ask if he finds that hot. Right. So not the time. I took a seat across from him.

"So…um…" I started quietly, watching Oliver. He didn't look up from his magazine. I waited for a moment, not quite sure if I should say anything since he wasn't even looking at me.

"See my parents?" he asked abruptly, still staring intently at his magazine.

"Er"—

"They're really nice folks, my parents."

"I'm sure…"

"Even my dad."

I cocked an eyebrow at him, feeling a bit scared now at where this conversation was going. "Er…I believe you."

Oliver dropped his magazine on his lap. "I saw you…I saw how you were watching us, and if you came here to act all superior and sympathetic with me, then you can go to hell!"

"No…I didn't come here to act like that…" I said automatically. "I just…well"—

"Well what?" Oliver cut in impatiently.

"I really like you." I found myself saying. Oh Merlin, what am I doing? "I've like you for a while, actually…I just thought I'd tell you that."

I sighed heavily. I think I said all of that in one breath. Damnit. That's probably why I said it…not enough oxygen going to my brain…I wasn't thinking straight. Why, oh _why_ did I say that to him?

"Oh"—

The compartment door slid open, and I felt my heart do a back flip. It was Madeline. "There you are!" she said, walking past me to join Oliver, throwing her arms around him. "I've been looking all over for you! Had a good holiday?"

Without waiting for his response though, Madeline turned to me and smiled her signature phony smile. "How about you, Suzie? Are you going to be joining us for the trip back? I thought you would be sitting with Denise!"

God, her voice is fake. I smiled back at her, probably equally fake as hers, and said, "My holiday was fine. I was just going actually to join Denise."

"Oh, alright." She said, still smiling. I swear, she risks cracking her face with that smile. I got up and headed out of the compartment. I have no idea how my legs carried me all the way to my own compartment, as I couldn't even feel my stupid limbs. I can't believe I just told Oliver how I felt. I mean, that wasn't an absolute declaration on my feelings; if I wanted to be more thorough I would've thrown in some comments on my fetish for broomsticks and whatnot, but still…he got the gist of it. The worst part is though I didn't even get to see him react. Stupid Madeline. Damn her for ruining everything. Now I don't even know what to expect when I see Oliver around school.

Just as I opened the door to the compartment I was sharing with Denise, Ernie Macmillan popped out of it, running right into me.

"Oh! My apologies…" he said quickly, nodding at me as he moved out of the way.

"Er, yeah, whatever." I replied, glancing briefly at him and then looking to Denise, who sat in the corner, looking a bit flustered. I came in and took a seat across from her, shutting the compartment door with my foot. I stared straight at Denise, wondering if I should ask her what the hell Ernie was talking to her about, or if I should dive right into the news about what my stupidity has led me to do this time.

"What did he want?" I asked almost automatically. For some reason, the idea of telling Denise what I had just done scared me a little.

Denise carefully adjusted the pleats on her skirt. "Er…well, Ernie…he um…came to give me his approval."

"Um…what?" I asked.

"For getting involved with his brother Vince, if I choose to do so…" Denise said quietly, rolling her eyes.

I snorted. Well, that settles it. The Macmillans are more old school than the cousins on my dad's side of the family (they have to go on all their dates with chaperones until they're of age). "Before we even get into talking about Vince…we need to spend some time mocking Ernie…"

Denise giggled. "Oh, Suzie…come on…"

"Seriously! He's like, thirteen years old"—

Denise shrugged. "He acts pretty mature"—

"And he's acting like your future father-in-law or something!"

"It was stupid, I know…but kind of cute at the same time…" Denise said.

"Luckily he won't be your father-in-law though. Just your brother-in-law…." I continued, grinning while Denise scowled at me.

"I haven't even agreed to go out with him yet," Denise said. "Ernie just came in and said that his brother seemed interested in me today, and that if I choose to start a relationship with him, he, Ernie, would be completely fine with it, because I'm a 'nice, upstanding young woman'."

I giggled. "Yes, you are…"

Denise glared at me. "Shut up…"

"Hey, wouldn't it be crazy if you married him?" I asked. "Oh! And if I married Mr. Macmillan? Then you'd be like, my stepdaughter!"Denise rolled her eyes. "Your mind never tires…""Never.""You _do_ know Mr. Macmillan is married, don't you?"I shrugged nonchalantly. "It can break…"Denise rolled her eyes again, but sniggered. "Home-wrecker.""What? I wouldn't try to break the marriage! It would fall on its own…and then I'd swoop in to comfort poor Mr. Macmillan…" I replied.Do you even know his first name?""Mister?""You've got a better shot with Lupin, dear. At least he's single…and you know his first name.""Are you encouraging me?" I asked, wiggling my eyebrows suggestively at her."Oh gosh, no." she replied. "Merlin knows you need no encouragement…"

We sat in silence for a moment, and in that moment my mind wandered back to Oliver. I thought again to tell Denise about what I had said to him, but I saw the look on her face. She was still pink and rosy, I'm assuming from the discussion of Vince with Ernie and then with me. I could tell she was attracted to Vince. Well, who wouldn't be? He looked like a younger version of his dad!

"So…do you think I should go for Vince…I mean, if he really likes me?"

I rolled my eyes, smiling at her as I pushed the matter of Oliver to the back of my mind in order to focus on Denise and her newfound love interest...


	10. Severus Snape

Author's note: -brandishes sword and shield- I swear, I've had writer's block! I am sorry though…and since I've been feeling bad about my er…negligence…and thought that since it's probably been a while since anyone's read the previous chapter, I thought I'd stick in a little recap for you guys. So if you remember all the events and stuff clearly enough, skip the italicized bit…but if you need your memory to be jogged….ahem…

_**-Gets into T.V. voice- last time, on "Wanton Confessions..."**_

"_Hey, Denise"—I started, following her down a particularly crowded aisle in Snape's Sweet Shoppe—"I should get something for Professor Lupin…he needs a Christmas/thank you gift too."_

_Denise cocked an eyebrow at me. "But didn't you have a row with him before we left school?"_

_"Well"—_

_"You told me you apologized to him, and then took your apology back, and then slammed the door on him…"_

_I sighed. "Fine. A Christmas/thank you/sorry-for-being-a-bitch present all in one. Will a box of chocolate do?"_

_Denise laughed. "Only if it's a big box." She said, picking up a box of dark chocolate and examining it._

…………………

"_You're the jerk who said all those things to me!" I exclaimed, fighting the urge to chuck his stupid ball at him. "You owe me an apology!"_

_"I owe you an apology?" Oliver asked indignantly. "You're the one who brought this whole rift between us…getting all worked up about your tutoring sessions. You're the reason I got tricked into thinking I could get a Firebolt. You're the reason why Madeline's in pain every time she tries to eat or drink something, and you're the reason why I have to always hear about it! I think you owe me an apology!"_

……………………

_I slapped him. I just slapped Oliver Wood. I didn't know how else to shut him up, so I slapped him. He looked at me like…well, like he had just been slapped. I felt a twinge of guilt as he looked at me with mingled surprise and hurt. But it melted almost instantly and was replaced by an angry glare._

_"You're a freak, Hennessey. I don't want your worthless apology anyway." He said, backing away slowly and then turning to walk away._

_"I don't want yours either!" I called back after him._

…………………………………………

_I glanced back at Vince. He wasn't looking at us. He had his attention turned to his father, who was addressing his sons in a serious tone. My, does he look good when he's serious. Er. Anyway. I watched as Vince listened to his father, nodding occasionally in acknowledgement of what he was saying, and then, he glanced at us again. Well, not us. At Denise. He was definitely looking at Denise. And just as quickly as he had glanced up, he averted his gaze back to his father. And a moment later, he repeated the whole cycle._

………………

"_What did he want?" I asked almost automatically. For some reason, the idea of telling Denise what I had just done scared me a little._

_Denise carefully adjusted the pleats on her skirt. "Er…well, Ernie…he um…came to give me his approval."_

_"Um…what?" I asked._

_"For getting involved with his brother Vince, if I choose to do so…" Denise said quietly, rolling her eyes._

………………

"_I really like you." I found myself saying. Oh Merlin, what am I doing? "I've like you for a while, actually…I just thought I'd tell you that."_

_I sighed heavily. I think I said all of that in one breath. Damnit. That's probably why I said it…not enough oxygen going to my brain…I wasn't thinking straight. Why, oh why did I say that to him?_

……

* * *

Severus Snape

* * *

Oh, my hands.

They're dirty, and smelly, and just…gross. They're going to be all callously and rough…and just…ew. They're going to lose their lush youthfulness – all in the space of a night. Thanks a lot, Snape.

I'm in detention, scrubbing dirty cauldrons, and it's the night before the next term. (Though Snape had said term had technically started, thereby justifying my being here, doing this really gross work). I chanced a glance at Professor Snape, who was sitting at his desk, grading papers. His brow was slightly furrowed, and he had a very concentrated look on his face. Currently he was pursing his lips together as he dipped his quill in his ink pot, getting ready to mark a grade on the paper.

Gah. I want to go. I've been inhaling the stench of Merlin-knows-what potions for the past hour…touching remnants of mysterious substances with my bare hands…all because he overheard me…I don't know _how_ he did—what with those tiny ears of his. See, he overheard me…er…using some obscenities on this one first year Slytherin; According to Snape, I was "corrupting the youth" with my foul mouth. Anyway, he took away a few house points for that. It was when I sniggered and said he could do like the ancient muggle Greeks did with Socrates, and feed me hemlock juice since we apparently committed the same crime. Staring witheringly at me, he said he had potions that worked even quicker than hemlock (and you _know_ I believe it) and then he proceeded to give me a detention.

He's cruel, this man sitting before me. I glanced up at him again…watching him as he marked down another paper. He let out a small sigh, and tossed the paper onto his stack of already graded papers. Ok. You know, this'll sound weird, but Professor Snape looks almost—not exactly happy—but more…at peace…doing his work. Peaceful Snape—very chilling indeed.

It's weird. I've always thought ill of Snape. I mean, he _is _a git and all...but there's just something about him…maybe it's his all-black wardrobe…he's so mysterious and kind of gothic, and…I don't know…he seems so cynical and bitter. But you know, I always imagine those traits to be…I don't know…kind of sexy. There. I said it. Snape's mystique is kind of sexy. Look, I can't help it, so don't get all judgmental on me for thinking that. It's not like I want to shag him or anything. I mean, I dreamt about it once, but that was a year ago when he whooped Lockhart's ass in a dueling club meeting, and…well, it's completely beside the point. Despite the aura of mystery that surrounds him, Snape is still a git. He's mean and a bully. He actually looks at peace when he gives people P's and T's on their assignments. Academically, he's completely sadistic. Huh. I'll bet he's sadistic in other aspects of his life too. Mmm. Kinky.

"Hennessey!"

Oh my bloody gosh. Snape's voice had startled me, causing me to drop my rag in the cauldron I was working on. I was still staring at him too, and he didn't seem to like it. He looked extremely annoyed, actually.

"Er—yes?" I asked, trying to look innocent.

"Do you need anything?"

"Er…no."

"Then get back to work." Snape said curtly.

"Oh—right! Sorry sir…"

Geez. His lack of appreciation for my staring shocks me…and amuses me. I couldn't help but grin.

"Hennessey!" Snape started again. I looked up from my work and saw that he was gritting his teeth. I pressed my lips together, hoping I wouldn't crack.

"Stop grinning like an imbecile and finish your work." He said, dropping his quill in his inkpot so hard, that drops of ink splashed out of it.

"I'm sorry, sir." I replied.

I didn't stop grinning though.

It took me a few moments to notice what had happened next. Snape had gotten out of his chair and walked over to the other side of the classroom, where I was working. He was towering over me, actually—but I didn't really notice until I had looked up to find my bottle of cleansing solution. Geez. He was like_, right_ there. I could actually hear him breathe.

"Er—yes, Prof"—

"Do you take pleasure in wasting yours—and what is infinitely worse—_my_ time in these detentions?" he asked, snatching my rag from me.

"Only if they're with you, Professor." I replied, trying to smile as pleasantly as possible at him. His face tightened slightly. Mmm. So not a good look for him.

"Get out. Now."

I could feel my mouth opening slightly. "But I'm not done yet"—

He snatched the cauldron out of my hands, looking rather mutinously at me. "Go."

"But"—

"Hennessey! I am going to give you three seconds to get out of my sight, and then I'm going to give you a little lesson in hexing—a lesson I am sure your defense against the dark arts professor has failed to give you." He hissed, drawing out his wand and aiming it at me. Ah, shit. "1, 2"—

"Later, sir!" I squealed, grabbing my things and hurrying out of his classroom as fast as humanly possible. If there's anything I learned from dear Professor Lockhart last year, it's to never duel Professor Snape. Ah, the good old days of the dueling club…nothing I love better than watching men duel each other. We really need to get that club going again…

* * *

Ah. Free at last. I looked at my watch, which currently read 8:05. Excellent. A little less than an hour until I have to be in the common room for curfew. Actually, I don't know what's so excellent about that…I have absolutely nothing to do (and I feel it necessary to add that I have _no one_ to do either). Meh. I suppose I'm safer just going back to the common room…what with Sirius Black being on the loose…and not to mention Oliver Wood. I think I may just die if I run into him. Conversely, I think I might just die if I don't see him. I mean, what the hell is a girl to do? I don't know what he thinks of me…how he feels about me liking him…maybe he's shocked and completely thrown off…or maybe he's known all along…I don't know…and the suspense is killing me. I don't know when the next time I'm going to be alone with Oliver is…what if I never get to be alone with him? Then I'll never know what his true feelings were, or what was going through his mind…oooh! Unless I become a legilimens…er…right. Lots of mental discipline required. I have none. Ok. I have no Plan B then…so…I don't know what will become of me, of Oliver…our love story will be incomplete. I will die an old maid, in Denise's basement, which will be richly furnished because she's probably going to marry Vince Macmillan and be rich with him, and have gorgeous children who will of course be my godchildren, because Denise will feel sorry for me and my pathetic, Oliver-less existence and will want to try doing something nice for me…and…and—

"Hey, Suzie!"

And the ground beneath me has disappeared. I turn the corner, and I run into none other than…yes, that's right. Mr. Oliver Wood. Ok. Must. Breathe. Breathe! Why does he look so worried? Damn myself for making things weird…and damn myself for being too thick to string words together at this moment! Ok. I can do this. Just breathe, damn it.

"Er…hey Oliver!" I squeaked. Geez. Why does it always come out as a squeak?

"So…erm…how've you been?" he asked, rather hurriedly, as he dug his hands into his pockets. "How…how was holiday? How are you?"

I could feel my heart rate slowing down to a normal pace. Knowing that he was a little uneasy too made me feel somewhat more at ease. "Um…I'm fine." I replied. "You?"

"I'm fine…you?"I couldn't help but grin. "Still fine…""Huh? Oh!" Oliver said with a sigh and a laugh. "Right, sorry…"

"Quite alright…" I replied, very conscious of the lack of squeakiness in my voice now. Well I'll be a hippogriff's concubine. Mr. Wood is a bigger spaz than me. My, have the tables turned. Well, at least in this moment anyway…

Oliver smiled slightly, his hands still in his pockets. "So…"

"So…" I echoed, putting my hands in my own pockets. I wanted to say something…I wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but somehow, I couldn't bring myself to say anything. I was just standing there, like an idiot, staring at him. At his face…trying to read his face. And I couldn't. It was too hard to read. I thought he looked a bit glad to see me, but then it kind of switched to a more wigged out and a bit disappointed look. Say something…please, say something…

"Er…listen…" Oliver started slowly. Oh that can't be good. He ran his fingers over the back of his head, ruffling up his hair, and looking extremely uncomfortable. Or constipated.

"Ah, hello Mr. Wood, Ms. Hennessey!"

And my heart took off again at the new voice that came from behind me. I turned around. It was Professor Lupin.

"Oh—hello Professor," Oliver said quickly, shifting his attention to Lupin, "how's it going? Have a good holiday?"

Professor Lupin smiled and nodded, saying that he had, though judging by his appearance, I think he might have been fibbing. He looked a bit pallid, and a bit thinner, and had bags under his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I was just passing through, I didn't mean to interrupt your conversation. Please, carry on." Lupin said, glancing from Oliver to me, raising his eyebrows questioningly at me. I blushed, realizing he knew a bit about my feelings for Oliver, but a moment later, remembered my little tantrum I had thrown at Lupin before holiday, and began to wonder if the chocolates I had sent had not sufficed as an apology…

"Oh, no! You're not interrupting anything," Oliver replied, glancing at me, though he quickly averted his gaze when our eyes met. What. The. Hell. "I have to go anyway…I…er…needed to check on my Quidditch team…make sure they all get to bed…we've got early practice tomorrow morning and whatnot."

Professor Lupin smiled. "Early, so…before dawn then?"

Oliver grinned and nodded. "Right. Well, see you Professor, see you Suzie…"

And he hurried away. I glanced at Professor Lupin, who had also begun to slowly make his way toward his office. He was limping a little. I stood there in my place for a few seconds, not quite sure what to do. Did Professor Lupin, the love of my academic life, just ruin the one chance I probably had at hearing Oliver out? I never thought I'd say this about dear Lupin, but damn him. He ruined everything! I almost don't care if he's still mad at me for acting up in his office a few weeks ago. Almost.

"Professor Lupin, wait up!" I called as I hurried after him. He had reached the foot of the stairs that led to his office when he turned around, looking at me rather surprised.

"Everything alright, Suzie?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Er, yeah…everything's fine. Um…how are you?" I asked as I caught up to him.

He motioned for me to follow him up the stairs. "I'm fine. How was your holiday?"

"Pretty good." I replied. "Good haul of presents."

Lupin laughed. "And that's what matters, right?"

"Of course." I said seriously. Well, as seriously as I can get. "How was yours? Did you get sick or something? Because…well, you look it."

Lupin smiled ruefully as he reached his office door, which he held open for me. "I did get sick, actually. But I'm recovering, and speedily too, thanks to the lovely gift you sent me over the holidays. Thank you very much for that."

"No problem." I said with a grin.

"You really didn't need to do that though." He said, with a smile, as he motioned for me to take a seat by his desk.

"Of course I did." I replied, looking squarely at him. "You obviously would be sicker if it hadn't been for that chocolate, and anyway, it was just a thank you gift…and…well…a sorry gift."

Professor Lupin laughed. "A sorry gift?"

I shrugged, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. I hate apology type conversations. "Well…I felt bad…I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I mean, I guess I just expected you to overlook what I had done to Madeline…I know I shouldn't have…but I did…and then you reacted the way you did…"

"The way a professor would react?" he interjected, smiling at me.

I blushed. "I forget sometimes that your being a disciplinarian comes with the whole teacher package."

Lupin nodded. "That happens."

I ran my fingers over the back of my head. "So…er…are we cool then?"

Professor Lupin smiled and got up. "Of course we are. Despite past actions, I know you're a good girl, Suzie, and a very bright person."

I could just feel myself ready to swoon. "Really?"

Lupin laughed as he began shuffling through the contents on one the drawers on the opposite end of his office. "I'm sure that's not news to you. Would you like some tea, by the way?"

"Oh! Sure…"

Professor Lupin at last found the tea bags he was looking for, and began to make tea. "Unfortunately though," he began as he tapped his teapot with his wand to heat up the water, "because of my recent sickness, Madam Pomfrey took it upon herself to confiscate all of my regular tea bags and replace them with herbal tea, so we'll have to make do with that."

I sniggered. "She's an aggressive one, that Madam Pomfrey."

"She is at that." Lupin replied as he poured tea for the both of us and handing me a cup. "So, how's the job hunt coming along? Have you heard from anyone yet?"

"Oh…no…not yet." I replied as I flattened my skirt against my lap. Ok. So I'm lying. A little. I've only heard from one place so far. _Magical Monthly_. They sent me a rejection letter over the holidays. I haven't told anyone except my parents…because, well, they were at home with me when I got it, so I didn't really have any choice about hiding it from them. Denise doesn't even know about it…I can't bring myself to tell her about it. I'm too embarrassed. I can't even tell my best friend, so how can I tell Lupin that I got rejected? A few months ago, he was praising this magazine, saying it was one of the better publications out there…he's going to think I'm a loser if he finds out I got rejected from them, and will then proceed to be all sympathetic, because he seems like the type…and then I'll feel like an even bigger loser for having him take pity on me...

"Well, don't worry." Lupin said, smiling reassuringly. "There's still plenty of time left to hear from them. I'm sure you'll get accepted…any of the places you applied to would be lucky to have you writing for them."

I smiled weakly. "Thanks. I hope you're right."

Professor Lupin took a sip of his tea, which, judging by the slightly embittered look on his face, he didn't like. When he put his cup down, he looked at me thoughtfully, and asked, "Have you ever considered writing for muggle newspapers or magazines, Suzie?"

"Muggle?" Muggle writing? Huh. I never thought of that. "But I don't know anything about muggle writing…" I said.

Lupin shook his head and smiled. "Journalistic writing is very much the same everywhere. Instead of writing about things that concern wizards and witches though, you'd write about things that concern muggles. Are you at all familiar with their lifestyle?"

I shrugged. "Somewhat. I live in a muggle neighborhood…though I don't interact much with my neighbors."

"Well…go to a muggle newsstand one day or their bookstores and go to the magazine section, and see what they're about…if they interest you, and you think you could comfortably write for them, you should try it. From what I hear, there's a much bigger market for writers in the muggle world than in the wizarding world." Lupin said. "Not that don't believe in your talents to conquer the wizarding writing world, because I do believe you can do it if they gave you a chance…but it would be advisable to consider all your options."

I smiled. And probably blushed too. He thinks I can conquer the writing world. He's so sweet. And someone's just knocked on the door. Right when I was beginning to float into the clouds. Damnit.

"Please come in." Professor Lupin said, draining the last of his tea.

The door opened, and in came Professor McGonagall, and for some reason she was holding a broomstick. It looked rather new. Actually, it looked kind of like a Firebolt...I saw it in my uncle's shop so many times. Oh! I wonder if that's the mysterious one he told me he sold, since he said it was being sent to Hogwarts…

"Remus—ah—Miss Hennessey, I'm sorry to interrupt," she said briskly, glancing at me briefly before turning her attention back to Lupin, "I just wanted to drop this off."

"Very well." Professor Lupin replied, carefully taking the broomstick in his hands, almost as if it were a snake ready to strike.

"I've already stripped it down and have tested it for jinxes, but as the dark arts expert here, it seems fitting that you examine it too before I give it back to Potter."

Lupin smiled. "I'll have a look first chance I get."

Professor McGonagall looked at him exasperatedly. "Do try to make that soon. I know you have a lot on your plate at the moment, especially with Potter, but the boy has been nagging me day in and day out for his broom. And now he's got Oliver Wood on my case too. I've been fighting the urge to give Potter a detention just for telling Wood."

Ah…so Harry was the lucky kid who got the Firebolt! But why were they testing for dark magic? I remember Uncle Jack telling me about the nature of the order and how a cat had brought in the money, along with the address to which the broom should be sent. Was it anonymously given to him then?

"Let me know when you've gotten through inspecting it so I can get it back to Potter." Professor McGonagall said as she turned to leave.

"Of course." Lupin replied.

I glanced back to watch McGonagall leave, but as she reached the door, she stopped and turned around, looking at Professor Lupin with what seemed like a mix of skepticism and worry.

"Perhaps we should also have Filius take a look, just to be thorough." Lupin offered, smiling slightly.

McGonagall let out a small sigh and nodded. "I was thinking exactly the same thing. We need to be absolutely sure that it's safe."

I glanced back at Professor Lupin, who looked like he was actually smirking. I pressed my lips together, trying not to smile. I have no idea why he's so amused, but seeing him smirk makes me want to smirk too, just for the hell of it.

"If you're still feeling uneasy," Lupin started, "we could always solicit Binns's help. He is, after all, an expert on ancient magic…or perhaps Severus? In case the broom's been coated with a dangerous potion"—

McGonagall glared at him, and then I understood the joke. "You would mock a woman's maternal instincts?" she asked stiffly.

Professor Lupin shrugged. "I have to admit, it's not every day I see them surface. I must take advantage of the occasion."

"Have the Firebolt ready to be passed on to Flitwick in a week's time." Professor McGonagall replied curtly as she headed out of the office.

When she left, Professor Lupin turned his attention to me and smiled. "If there's any professor in this school who cares about the welfare of her students, it's Professor McGonagall." he told me. "Just try not to spread the word. It would ruin her image."

I grinned. "I may be persuaded with some hush money."

Lupin smiled. "I'm afraid you're just going to have to do it out of the goodness of your heart."

I rolled my eyes as I got up, remembering that it was almost curfew. "That's hardly a motivation."

* * *

After bidding Lupin goodbye, I began to make my way back to the common room, in hopes of finding Denise there. She _would_ be there, of course, being quite the goody two shoes and usually adamant about following school rules. God, I haven't seen her since dinner, which is a lot of time considering we spend most of our time together. I must update her on my Oliver situation (mainly because she demanded me to keep her updated). I eventually told her on the train ride back to Hogwarts about my little confession to Oliver. Her reaction was quite memorable. She stared at me for a full five seconds in silence…just staring at me…it wasn't until I waved a hand in front of her face and said "Oi! Mrs. Macmillan!" that she snapped into her senses, slapped me very hard on the thigh (I never thought someone as dainty as her could be so strong), and demanded me to tell her why I had waited twenty minutes to tell her about my talk with Oliver. After many apologies and my assurances that I would never hold out on her again, I explained every last detail of my conversation...which didn't take very long, as it lasted about thirty seconds. I told her about how I had meant to go into Oliver's compartment with the sole intention of apologizing to him, and how I ended up admitting my feelings to him, just like that…and how Madeline just _had _to make her bloody appearance at the most crucial moment. I hate her. I truly hate her. Seriously. I'm actually beginning to understand why my patronus took the form of a tiger a few months ago in Lupin's class…That girl irks me to the point that I wish I were a tiger, just so I could roar at her…or um…possibly claw her. Or if I had a Madeline-like dementor coming after me (which doesn't make sense, I know…because honestly, who would be afraid of that slutty toothpick?), then I could send my tiger-shaped patronus after her.

I know…I have segued into the realm of weirdness and irrationality. I shall segue right out…er…just as soon as I find Denise, because really, she's the only person who can drag me back to the rational world. Oh, Denise was so sweet, and so encouraging when I told her everything though. I mean, I don't really believe anything she said ("Suzie, you were so brave for saying that to him…it's good that you told him…I bet he likes you back, just wait for him to approach you…"), but the sentiments were nice. I don't honestly believe Oliver likes me back or that he ever would have. I mean, he knows my feelings now…and he's still with Madeline…he's had the whole day to approach me (except for the hours I spent in Snape's detention, of course) and tell me that he likes me back, but he hasn't done anything. I know I'm ditzy, but I'm not so stupid that I can't see the obvious. Still though, I want to hear it from him. I want him to put closure on everything, and tell me he doesn't like me back so I can just move on.

"Minerva!"

I had just turned the corner when I heard the very familiar, very hoarse, yet oh-so-sexy voice. I glanced up and saw Professor Lupin coming down the stairs, which were several yards away from me, so he didn't notice me. My ears perked up as I watched him catch up to Professor McGonagall, who was walking further along the corridor, even farther away from me. Happily, neither of them seemed to notice that I was behind them. Instinctively (yes, stalking _is_ an instinct), I quickened my pace to keep up with them though trying my utmost to quiet my steps to keep myself hidden…Yes, I'm still feeling rather pathetic with my Oliver business, but the world's sexiest professor has just appeared on the scene and is hurrying to catch up with Professor McGonagall. Oh, and happy, happy day. The man has left his robes in his office and is sporting his muggle clothes. My God, look at that bum go. Ok. New ambition in life: Marry a muggle, or a wizard who at least knows the joys of muggle clothing. Amazing. I can go from lovesick to lustful in half a second.

McGonagall glanced over her shoulder at hearing her name, though fortunately her head didn't turn far enough to notice me in the background. "Remus! Fancy seeing you here…"

Though I couldn't see Lupin's face, I'm sure he had smiled in response, as he so often tends to do. "I'm not sure I know what you mean…"

I slowed down a bit, allowing for the distance between us to increase. I held my breath, hoping I'd still be able to hear their conversation.

"Well, at times it seems as if you emerge from your office as often as Trelawney does." McGonagall had replied.

Lupin let out a small laugh. "Ah, I see. Well, I don't do it on purpose"—

"Of course you don't." McGonagall interjected, though it sounded good-naturedly. Well, I think it was…you can never be too sure with her… "I know you're constantly occupied with your students…they demand quite a bit of time from you, I've noticed…probably more so than any professor in this school."

Aw! The students take up all his time! He's the most popular teacher in the school! Well, no surprise. I mean, aside from being crazy smart and witty and fun, he's incredibly sweet and approachable…plus, as I have discovered tonight, he has an exceptionally perky posterior.

"Oh, well…" Lupin began, sounding slightly flustered. Oh, he's all embarrassed! I love a shy man! "I teach an exceptional bunch of students. They're always approaching me with the most interesting questions, and they seem so genuinely interested in the subject…"

McGonagall sniffed, giving off a tone of mixed skepticism and amusement. "Yes, that's all they can talk to you about…defense against the dark arts!"

Lupin glanced sideways at McGonagall, and I almost crashed into a nearby knight of armor in my attempts to get out of his field of vision. "What do you mean? I mean, they do talk to me about other things…I've developed closer relationships with some of the students, mainly with those who _want_ to be closer…"

"Yes, I've noticed that…a few of the students—particularly our older students—see you almost as a mentor." Professor McGonagall said quickly when Lupin's voice had trailed off. I couldn't help but beam. I certainly think of him as a mentor. And then some…

"You flatter me…I don't know if any of my students"—

"Stop being modest, Remus!" McGonagall said, cutting him off and waving her hand dismissively at him. "You have your fans and that is a good thing. Few professors in this school have honed their socializing skills well enough to develop friendships with their students. I just wanted to caution you though."

"Caution me?"

I could see Professor McGonagall smiling at Lupin. Almost knowingly. Wow. I've never seen McGonagall smiling knowingly at anyone. She's usually so damn stiff. Oh my God. What if she's trying to flirt with Professor Lupin? Ew. That's sick. He's probably like, twenty or thirty years her junior…Ew. Ew. Ew. I know. I should probably have 'hypocrite' tattooed on my forehead in very big letters…

"Take care, Remus. You really shouldn't be so nice to everyone…you might give the wrong impression…" McGonagall replied.

Professor Lupin turned to look at McGonagall. "Minerva, I highly doubt"—

"Remus, you've been here for less than a year." Professor McGonagall cut in, "And I know you'd like to think the best in people, but you don't know the students as well as I do, and you certainly don't know women as I do. Believe me when I say that they are emotional creatures."

I could feel my eyes widening. What the hell was McGonagall talking about? Oh, I smell intrigue! I held my breath, waiting for them to continue…

Professor Lupin laughed lightly. "I am aware of that…but I don't think we have anything to worry about…if we're talking about the same thing," he added, glancing warily at Professor McGonagall. "Anyway, I don't even think any of my female students are like that…I believe you've sadly mistaken me for a Gilderoy Lockhart…"

McGonagall made a tutting sound as she glanced sideways at Lupin. "And I suppose Ms. Hennessey hangs around your office as much as she does because she just loves defense against the dark arts that much?"

Suddenly, my feet have become too heavy to lift. I'm stuck…

"Minerva, really…" Lupin started, sounding slightly disconcerted, but again, McGonagall cut him off.

"I've never seen a student adore a professor the way she adores you. And while it is a bit refreshing, and I daresay rather entertaining, all I'm saying is to be careful. You don't want to lead the poor girl on…she's a good student, and a good girl, and she would be so hurt if she got to thinking that something might come out of"—

"With all due respect," Professor Lupin started, "she's seventeen, not stupid. I'm sure she knows that much, if she even feels the way you say she does."

"Always getting embarrassed at the slightest attentions…" McGonagall said with a laugh. "You certainly haven't changed one bit since your schoolboy days…well, perhaps a little. I notice you don't blush as much as you used to…"

Lupin frowned at McGonagall. "Anyway…to change the subject…you made me forget why I caught up with you in the first place…I wanted to ask you what tests you've done on Harry's broom, and I can mark those off the list I've compiled so we're not redundant…"

But I didn't hear the rest…In fact, I barely noticed them disappearing behind another corner, leaving me alone in the corridor. I can't believe this. Lupin _knows_ I like him. McGonagall knows I like him. Oh gosh. Oh my bloody gosh…it was just a stupid crush! I mean, _yes_ I've gotten a bit obsessive over him as of late, but I swear, _I_ never even took it seriously. I never thought seriously about Lupin…I mean, hello! That's what Oliver's been around for!

Geez. This sucks. This _really_ sucks, like more than a—oh forget it. I'm not even in the mood for making dirty similes right now. My secrets are out. Oliver knows I like him, and he hasn't even given me a proper reaction…Lupin knows I like him—hell, he's probably known all along—and it's worse because now I realize he's probably been playing nice with me this whole time, ignoring any vibes I might have been inadvertently pushing at him. Well, this is just fan-bloody-tastic. I am humiliated beyond belief. I mean, it's bad enough that the whole damn world has to know who I'm interested in, but what's worse is that even after all of this, I have no one. No Oliver, no…no one.

I headed towards the portrait that guarded the Hufflepuff common room, trying to decide the best way to tell Denise about what I had overheard, in addition to my brief run-in with Oliver. I guess I can't really say I have no one. I do have Denise, and as she's probably one of the best friends a girl could ever have, I should be happy that I at least have her.

As I climbed through the threshold and began making my way down the stairs that led to the common room, I listened for voices, trying to figure out who was in the common room before I reached it. I heard Madeline's squeaky voice, as well as Cedric Diggory's quiet laughter. When I entered the common room, I glanced around, and quickly realized that Denise was not there. Clever girl. She's probably down in the dormitory, waiting for me. I hurried down the steps that led to the girls' dormitories, remembering that the sooner I got there, the more time Denise and I would have to confer before Miss Slutty-Long-Legs shows up to retire for the night.

When I reached our dormitory, I swung the door open, expecting to find Denise curled up in bed with a book or lying on her stomach, doing her homework. But she wasn't. The curtains of her four poster bed were drawn shut, and I heard her slow, steady breathing. Quietly, I tiptoed to her bedside and peaked through the curtains—she was fast asleep.

I sat on the edge of my bed for a few moments, staring at Denise's bed and fighting the urge to wake her up. It wasn't until Madeline entered the dormitory a few minutes later that I finally got up to go change into my pajamas and go to bed, wondering how on earth I was going to act around Professor Lupin now, and wondering when on earth I'd be able to stop feeling queasy at the memory of me telling Oliver that I like him.


	11. The Oh So Sexy, Suavemente Sergio

_ My Big Fat A/N:_

_So I've been up all night working on this chapter…23 pages into it, I'm still not done…and so here I am, telling you that there is more to come…soon. (I swear!) I'll probably have to pull some stuff from one of the later chapters to make the next chapter a bit longer and more balanced…but yeah. The second part shall be up within a couple of days, tops. After all, I have a head start. I guess keep in mind when you read this that the way the chapter has ended here was not the intended end for the chapter…soooo…gah, ok I hope this all works right. Ok I'm going to shut up about this and move on…._

_thanks toomanycurls for the Hufflepuff-points-comment alteration. Your way is funnier. :P _

_Ok…sooo… I'm going to include a quick little recap here..don't know if it's necessary…but if you need it, read on, if not, skip the bold, italicized bit!_

_stay tuned for the next chapter – I'm neglecting my other stories to get chapter 12 up in a timely manner, as I promised 5 seconds ago._

_enjoy!_

**_

* * *

_**

**_ "What did he want?" I asked almost automatically. For some reason, the idea of telling Denise what I had just done scared me a little._**

**_Denise carefully adjusted the pleats on her skirt. "Er…well, Ernie…he um…came to give me his approval."_**

**_"Um…what?" I asked._**

**_"For getting involved with his brother Vince, if I choose to do so…" Denise said quietly, rolling her eyes._**

**_Ok. So I'm lying. A little. I've only heard from one place so far. Magical Monthly. They sent me a rejection letter over the holidays. I haven't told anyone except my parents…because, well, they were at home with me when I got it, so I didn't really have any choice about hiding it from them. Denise doesn't even know about it…I can't bring myself to tell her about it. I'm too embarrassed. I can't even tell my best friend, so how can I tell Lupin that I got rejected? A few months ago, he was praising this magazine, saying it was one of the better publications out there…he's going to think I'm a loser if he finds out I got rejected from them, and will then proceed to be all sympathetic, because he seems like the type…and then I'll feel like an even bigger loser for having him take pity on me..._**

**_McGonagall made a tutting sound as she glanced sideways at Lupin. "And I suppose Ms. Hennessey hangs around your office as much as she does because she just loves defense against the dark arts that much?"_**

**_

* * *

_**

Chapter Eleven: The Oh-So Sexy, Suavemente Sergio

* * *

I winced as I took a sip of my orange juice. Ick. I hate pulp. It's so mushy and…well, pulpy.

"Want my juice?" I asked, turning to Denise and smiling brightly at her…or at least I tried to smile brightly. I think it might have turned out to be one of those creepy sort of smiles or something…I was tired this morning, not having gotten much sleep the night before. Plus, I think I had used the last of my energy this morning telling Denise all about my little…er…happenings…with Oliver, and the embarrassing McGonagall/Lupin debacle in the hallway. She laughed. Denise actually laughed when I told her they knew about my Lupin crush. She laughed and told me "that sucks." Way to state the obvious, Denise…

"No, you drink it…" Denise replied, pushing my glass towards me. "You need your vitamin C."

"How do _you_ know?"

"I know so…you don't eat enough healthy food." She replied, not looking up from her breakfast.

I frowned at her. "Again, how do you know? I could be sneaking apples and oranges into our dormitory or into class, and you wouldn't necessarily know…"

She looked up from her breakfast, cocking an eyebrow at me. "Have you?"

I took another sip of my orange juice in response. Ok, so the last time I ate an apple was last week at home when we had apple pie for dessert, but whatever… I mean really, in a hundred years, we'll all be dead anyway.

"So," Denise started as she pushed aside her plate. "We've got Lupin in about fifteen minutes…"

"You know, I think you're right…I don't get enough vitamins and nutrients. I think I'm actually coming down with something right now…"

"Oh, how inconvenient…" Denise replied as she rolled her eyes at me. How dare she! I'm suffering from malnutrition here and all she can do is roll her eyes at me?

"I know," I said with a sigh. "Listen, I should go and get some bed rest…can I borrow your notes after class?"

Denise sniggered. "How are you going to act around him?" she asked, ignoring my question.

"Most unfortunately, I won't have to deal with that today, what with my being sick and whatnot…ow!"

An envelope had fallen on my head, and one of the pointy corners had hit me right in the forehead. And then another envelope came down, also landing on my head. What. The. Hell. Is this my punishment for trying to skive off class? I looked up, expecting to find my mum's tawny little owl flying around like an idiot, hooting happily at me as it usually did when it delivered mail, but instead I saw a large dark owl that I didn't recognize, already flying away.

"Recognize that owl?" I asked Denise, pointing at the owl that had dropped its mail on me. It was already heading towards the owlry. She shook her head and picked up one of the envelopes from my lap and read the front of it.

"Oh! It's from the _Daily Prophet_!" she squealed. "They must've made their decision!"

But I barely heard her. I was looking at the other letter I had received. It was from _Witch Weekly_. I turned the letter over, digging my nails under its hat-shaped wax seal to break the envelope open.

"Who's that from?" I heard Denise ask, pointing at the letter in my hand, but I didn't answer. I had opened the letter and glanced over the text…it was only a few lines:

_Dear Suzie Hennessey:_

_Thank you for your application. We were fortunate to have several qualified candidates apply for this position. After careful consideration, we have determined that the credentials of another candidate are a better fit to the needs of our magazine. Please accept our best wishes and we thank you for your interest in **Witch Weekly**._

_Cordially,_

_Gerry Dalton_

I could feel Denise's eyes on me, waiting for me to say something. I didn't know what to say…well, no. I did. But I couldn't say it. I had a feeling that if I even attempted to speak, I might start crying.

I handed the letter to her and waited. It took about five seconds for her to finish the letter and jam it back into its envelope.

"Don't worry, Suzie…" she said quietly. "You still have"—

"I heard from _Magical Monthly_ too, over the holidays." I finally said, cutting her off.

"Oh?"

"Yep."

"_Oh_…"

I nodded, staring at the table. I didn't know what else to do or say, so I took another sip of my orange juice. As I put the glass down, I saw Denise slide the other envelope onto the table. I glanced at it. It was from the _Daily Prophet_.

"It might be good news…" Denise said slowly. "Come on. Open it."

"I'm not really in the mood for another rejection."

"You don't know if it is though!"

I shook my head. "No, but I'm pretty sure. I mean, I got rejected from _Witch Weekly_, Denise. They take trolls as their writers. How am I going to get an offer from a paper like the _Daily Prophet_?"

Denise fell silent. I went back to staring at the table. So, it seemed that unemployment was in my fate. I suppose I could always marry rich…but I don't think anyone wants me. Hmm…maybe some old, nappy-looking rich guy will take me. Except the thought of performing conjugal duties on an old ugly man made me feel a bit nauseous…

"Suzie!"

I glanced up, and realized that had Denise taken my _Daily Prophet_ letter and had already opened it. "Hey, I never said you could"—

"You got an interview with them!" she breathed.

My mouth fell open as I gaped at her stupidly.

"Dear Ms. Hennessey," Denise began to read in an excited whisper, "Thank you for your interest in joining the _Daily Prophet_ team. After reviewing your application, we are pleased to invite you to an interview!"

"Oh my God…"

Denise waved a hand at me, trying to shush me. What the hell—

"They're suggesting that you meet them at The Three Broomsticks for a lunch interview this Saturday, since Hogwarts is having a Hogsmeade weekend," Denise said, scanning the letter. "I didn't even know we could go to Hogsmeade this weekend!"

"Neither did I," I said as I took the letter from Denise to have a look for myself. God. I can't believe this. I actually have a shot with the _Daily Prophet_…they actually want to interview me…

* * *

Ten minutes later, I was whimpering as Denise shoved me through the portrait hole that guarded the Hufflepuff common room.

"I'm telling you, I'm _sick_ Denise!"

"Really? You seemed perfectly fine a few minutes ago when you were skipping out of the Great Hall."

I glared at her. She grinned as she pushed me on towards the staircase that led to Lupin's classroom. "Come on," she said, "you can tell Professor Lupin about the interview, he'll be happy for you!"

"I don't want him to be happy for me."

"Why not?"

"He'll probably think I'm trying to come onto him or something for sharing good news."

Though I couldn't see Denise as she was still behind me, pushing me, I was pretty certain she was rolling her eyes at me. "Oh, quit being so dramatic. Anyway, Lupin doesn't know that you know that he knows about your crush."

"Sorry…_who_ knows _what_?"

"Shut up. You're going to class…" she replied, pushing me along the corridor.

I can't believe she's treating me a like a little five year-old, forcing me to go to class. Well, fine. If she thinks I'm five, I should act five...

"But I don't _wanna_ go!" I whined as I folded my arms over my chest and pouted angrily. I rooted my feet to the ground, trying to keep Denise from pushing me any further.

"Oh my _gosh,_ you're being impossible." Denise said resignedly as she gave up on her attempts to push me into class.

I grinned. "I'm _incorrigible_!"

I love that word, it's so much fun. It's like the most sugar-coated word for someone who's impossible, I can't help but use it on myself.

Denise looked at her watch and sighed again. "Look, class starts in a few minutes, we're going to be late!"

"You mean _you're_ going to be late." I corrected her.

"I feel like I should be bribing you with candy at this point."

"I'll go to class if you get me Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans _and_ if you pick out all the disgusting beans."

"Ha ha, I'm sorry. I think you've mistaken me for a house elf." Denise replied.

I pouted again. "Fine. I guess I'm not going to class."

"I'm sorry…did I hear wrong?"

I nearly jumped out of my skirt when I heard the voice. Denise and I turned around, only to find Professor Lupin standing a few feet from us. Um. Woops?

He took a few steps closer to us, smiling slightly at me. "Did you just refuse to attend my class on account of Denise refusal to get you a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans _and_ pick out all the disgusting beans for you?"

I smiled innocently, pretending I had a halo hanging over my head. "That sounds about right."

Lupin nodded, frowning at me slightly before continuing on his way. "Oh, Denise?" he said, without so much as looking back at us, "One point for Hufflepuff if you can manage to bring Suzie to class without succumbing to her bribes...and two points from Hufflepuff if she skips."

* * *

I fell into the seat next to Denise and glared at her.

"You're hurting yourself more than you're hurting me with that attitude." She said as she began flipping through her textbook, not even glancing up at me.

I sighed and made a move to get my own book out of my bag. "Yeah, well…I never got to do the whole self-destructive, angsty, misunderstood, chip-on-my-shoulder bit when I was younger. I'm just trying to make up for all that lost time."

"We'll get you a Weird Sisters shirt tomorrow then, maybe a blade too so you can slit your wrists while you listen to their music…"

"Hey, I like them, and their music isn't depressing! It's poignant and deep!" I exclaimed, frowning at Denise. Ok, just because little underage kids like to blast the Weird Sisters on their wireless and act like they understand the soulfulness of their songs while they dress like vampires, doesn't mean I do. I'm not a poser!

Denise giggled. I opened my mouth to continue my Weird Sister sermon, but was suddenly cut off by another person's laugh. I glanced past Denise, only to find Madeline Slutty-Long-Legs Johnson sitting next to us, joining in Denise's laughter.

"What?" I asked, trying as hard as I could to sound innocent and curious as to why she was laughing. I was probably failing miserably though, because I could feel a vein in my forehead throbbing oh-so-slightly.

Madeline's laughter subsided as she cleared her throat and tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder. Oh, she thinks she's so cool because her hair is long and straight…and shiny…and perfect. Ok, note to self: must use conditioner more often in the shower.

"Oh…um, sorry…I just heard you talking about the Weird Sisters…you _like_ them?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at me and giving me a smile that was decidedly mocking.

"Um…"

Madeline sniggered again. God. I just want to hit her, or stick something in her mouth to get her to stop making that weird noise that was masquerading as a laugh.

"Sorry, that's just funny…" she replied, shaking her head and smiling condescendingly at me.

I cocked an eyebrow at her. "Why?"

"Well, have you _heard_ them?"

I smiled at her. "No, I just like to wear the t-shirts…you know, pretend that I'm a fan _just_ so I can be persecuted for having good taste in music."

And as if right on queue, Professor Lupin tapped his wand on his desk, signaling the start of class. I felt like flashing Madeline a couple of my fingers to give our conversation a more grandiose ending, but thought better of it. She'll probably claw me to death in my sleep with her freakishly long nails. Or Lupin will catch me and give me a detention. Or both. Oh, that would really stink. Sad. The latter would have actually been fun, if it weren't for my newfound discomfort in being in Lupin's presence. Gosh, every time I relive the memory of McGonagall teasing him about my interest in him, I want to cringe. And what kills me is that she was all chit-chatty about it with him! Like it wasn't a big deal, like it was just another funny occurrence, all in the day's work…

Gosh, they probably sit around in their stupid lounges and talk about me. All of them…just sitting there, sipping firewhiskey and swapping stories about all the stupid things I've done in and out of their classes. Huh. I'll bet Snape would have plenty to share. Though I can't imagine him drinking firewhiskey…Oh my God. What if Lupin told people about my accidentally-asking-if-he-was-married incident? Oh God, oh God, oh God…entire life flashing before my eyes…

Ok so maybe I'm overreacting a little. I _know _that the Hogwarts faculty has better things to do than sit around and get drunk together while sharing stories about me. Well, maybe Trelawney's the exception…she always smells like cooking sherry and seems a bit tipsy more often than not…though I suppose she wouldn't have anything bad to say about me. She always gushed on about how I had the gift of the inner eye. (I predicted on my last exam that I was going to have a torrid love affair and have a child out of wedlock…oh, and also that my lover would later dump me in order to pursue a career in foot modeling.)

But in any case, whether or not professors have been talking about me, I don't know how the hell to act around Lupin anymore. He _knows_ about me…and it kills me. How long has he known about me liking him? And how did he figure it out? Ok, um…I'm starting to wonder if sending him those chocolates over the holidays was a bit much…

"Suzie?"

Heart flying at a million miles a second.

"Er..hi!" I replied, grinning at Professor Lupin like a complete imbecile. Geez. _Why_ must he call on me? Couldn't he tell I wasn't paying attention? Right…that's probably why he called on me…

He sighed, rolling his eyes at the ceiling as he did so. "Hello." He replied, smiling at me with mild amusement. "I asked if you understood my explanation. You had a confused look on your face."

"Oh! No…no, I understood…um, no…I just tend to look like that. I'm a confused person." I replied, laughing nervously as I ran my fingers through my hair. Man, I sound like an idiot.

"I'm sorry to hear it," Lupin said warily, turning back to the board to write a new set of notes while several students sniggered at his comment. Or mine…I'm not sure. "Right then…"

And he continued with his lecture. Thankfully, he didn't call on me the rest of the period. When he dismissed us, I hurriedly packed my things, deciding to not bother with waiting for Denise if she wasn't ready to go…I just wanted to get the hell out. I'm sure she'd understand…

"Miss Hennessey – I want a word with you."

I had just finished packing my bag and had thrown its strap around my shoulder when Professor Lupin called after me. I cast a glance at Denise, who was trying to look sympathetic, but ended up looking like she was having a stroke or something, as it seemed very clear that she was also trying not to smile…or laugh her ass off.

"See you in Transfiguration!" she said as she made a grab for her things. I waved to Denise and then turned around to head on over to Professor Lupin's desk—

"Ah! Geez!" I exclaimed as I turned around and found Lupin standing right in front of me. He backed away a little, looking rather amused at having startled me.

"My apologies." He said with a laugh. "I thought you heard me walk up to you."

"I didn't." I replied with a grin, trying to look casual and _not_ like I had almost had a heart attack. _God,_ he walks quiet…

"Now, don't worry about being late for Transfiguration…I'll send you there with a note." Lupin said as he began heading towards his office, which was connected to the classroom. Wondering what the hell I did today, aside from not paying attention in class (but that was hardly out of the ordinary), I followed Lupin.

Oh. Hell. Is he going to confront me about my crush? Telling me that he's known all along and that he's tired of pretending that he doesn't know, and wants to tell me that nothing can happen between us, so I should try to forget about him and pursue men my own age…and then he'd probably feel bad for letting me down like that and would proceed to give me a Honeydukes chocolate bar before sending me on my way…oh, how pathetic is my existence right now?

"Well, Suzie" he said as he held the door open to his office for me, "to get straight to the point, I just wanted to ask you if everything was alright. You looked rather distracted today."

"Oh! No, no…I'm not distracted, not distracted at all. No, I'm totally…tracted."

"Tracted?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

I felt myself blush. "Um. Focused…that's what I meant. Couldn't think of an antonym for 'distracted' at first…"

Professor Lupin nodded, looking rather (and justifiably) unconvinced. "Sit down, won't you?"

"Oh, ok. Thanks." I replied, taking a seat opposite to him. That was weird. I'm suddenly conscious of just how informal I've always been with Lupin. I've been to his office like, a dozen times, and I've always taken a seat without even asking him. Yes, I know, that's a bit rude…but I don't know, I've never been one for social protocol. Anyway, just really weird hearing him ask me to sit down…

He was looking squarely at me, with the most concerned look in his eyes. I just want to melt…

"Suzie, are you sure everything's alright? I haven't forgotten that you were trying to skip my class earlier. Is there a problem, either with me or one of your classmates?"

"No, of course not," I said quickly, "well…I mean, except Madeline…but that"—

"…is neither here nor there." Lupin interjected with a smile. "But no other problems? Is it any of the material we're covering, or the workload that's making you want to skip class?"

"No," I said again. "Everything's fine, really…I was just joking about that stuff earlier, I swear…"

Professor Lupin raised an eyebrow, looking at me doubtfully. "So you wanted come to class?"

"Yes!"

"And you weren't distracted or upset in any way during class?"

"Nope."

"So…if I asked you to write a one page essay on what we discussed in class today, you'd be able to write it?" he asked, smiling at me.

Shit. "Er…are you allowed to do that?"

He laughed. "I believe I am. However I'm choosing to take your word for it and let you go," he said as he began writing me an excuse note on a small piece of parchment. "And since you did come to class—and I'm assuming Denise didn't bribe you—a point to Hufflepuff, as promised…"

I smiled. "Wow, a whole point. That's really going to get us the house cup this year…"

He smiled back as he handed me my note. "I'm afraid you'll need a great many more points to get the cup from Gryffindor…they've had it these past couple years, haven't they?"

I frowned. "You were a Gryffindor in your day, weren't you?"

"Yes, I was."

I stuck my excuse note in my pocket and grinned at him. "Well, that explains the thriftiness with which you give out points to other houses…I mean, come on…only one point? You just want to see Gryffindor hog the house cup for itself."

Lupin rolled his eyes in response. "Yes, that's exactly why I gave you only one point for attending a class that you're required to attend anyway."

"Well, when you put it that way…"

"I haven't forgotten that you're late for Transfiguration." Professor Lupin said, cutting me off. "Do not think you can con me into letting you skip any more class by means of discussing house rivalries."

"Well, it was worth a shot." I said, getting up.

He smiled. "And as always, I admire your efforts."

* * *

I jumped slightly in my seat as I felt Denise poke me in the back with her quill. I was about to turn around to see what was up, but decided I didn't want to risk getting another glare from McGonagall. She had been rather annoyed with me when I came into her class ten minutes late, even though I had given her my note from Lupin. Hmm, she probably thinks I was late because I was off trying to seduce Professor Lupin…because in her eyes, that's what I am, aren't I? Just a seductive…er…seductress…who likes to seduce professors…or something.

When McGonagall turned to face the board, I glanced back at Denise, only to get a note thrown in my face.

"Ouch! Paper cut!" I hissed. "What"—

"Read it!" she mouthed at me. Her eyed were widened and she looked extremely nervous. Ok…something's wrong? I quickly unfolded her note, my mind rushing through every possible piece of bad news Denise cold be sharing with me…

_Ok, so I just got a note from Oliver (nothing regarding the whole situation you guys are in, I'm sorry to say). He said that Ernie Macmillan came up to him earlier, asking where he could find me. Oliver said he didn't know, so Ernie asked him to pass on the message to me that his brother, Vince, wants to ask me out, and was wondering if I'd like to meet him for lunch at Hogsmeade this weekend. Oliver also wrote that Ernie said he'd come and ask me again later, so he could go and give his brother a reply._

_I don't know what the hell to do!_

I pressed my lips together and smiled. I can't remember the last time I heard Denise use the word 'hell'…

_Ok, I have to admit, I'm kind of interested. I mean, Vince is pretty cute, isn't he? I don't remember him that well from when he was a student here, but from what I do remember, he seemed like a nice guy. But then, I don't really know him, you know? What if he's a jerk, or a weirdo? And this is all a bit strange…I mean, he doesn't even attend Hogwarts anymore…how does he expect to carry on a relationship? And then, what's with all this going through Ernie? Does he not know my name? Can he not send me an owl or something and ask me out himself? Why must his brother get involved? And why must Ernie go around and tell the whole school that his brother wants to go out with me? I know Oliver doesn't equal the whole school, but still…_

_I need your input. Help me!_

_By the way, what did Lupin want to talk to you about after class? Did he ask you out…or did he warn you to stay away from him because he wasn't interested in dating someone half his age? Ha ha…ok, sorry…I'll feel so bad if that had really happened…_

_And I'm so sorry…mentioning Oliver like this…I know it's really weird between you two, but he was the one who passed me the note to tell me this stuff. He still hasn't said anything yet, has he? Hey, have you ever thought about confronting him maybe? Go see him after class…and just ask him if you could speak to him privately…and just say that he didn't even react to what you said on the train ride here, and that you feel that you deserve a response, and you want to know how he feels about all of it. Yes, I think that's a good idea, and you should do it. But ok, again, I'm sorry…but I need help with this whole Vince thing…so please advise me! _

Oh geez. She's seriously freaking out about Vince? Who cares if she doesn't really know him or if he's not a student here…the man is hot! Case closed! Anyway, we're graduating in a few months, so the fact that he doesn't go here shouldn't be a problem. I wrote all of this down on the back of Denise's note, assuring her that she would be an idiot to not date Vince.

_You said yourself you remember him being nice_, I wrote, _and don't read so much into the fact that he didn't ask you out himself. He probably thought it would be weird, since he doesn't go here, and maybe he thought you would feel weird about having direct contact with someone you hardly know. So don't worry! When Ernie approaches you (or better yet, you should go approach him…it'll make the little sod feel important), just tell him yes, and that Vince can contact you directly if he wants._

I turned my note over to look at Denise's note again. So Oliver had told her all of this….Hmph. No, he wasn't the whole school, but trust him to tell his beloved Madeline about it. I hesitated for a moment, but then decided to go ahead and add that bit to my note, adding as an afterthought that I was just kidding and wasn't upset at her mentioning Oliver.

I wasn't quite sure of what to say about me confronting Oliver. The idea _did_ have some merit. I could close the book on this whole Oliver crap once and for all…now, it's just a matter of me getting the balls to go up to him and ask for a private word…

I added in my note to Denise that I would think about talking to Oliver, and then quickly explained why Professor Lupin had kept me after class, sighing wistfully as I did so. God. He's so sweet, being all concerned for a stupid girl who he _knows_ has a crush on him…why couldn't he just be younger, and not a teacher? It would've been _so_ much easier…or would it?

I pondered over this as I folded up my note and let my hand swing back so Denise could take my reply. I suppose it _would_ have made my situation easier if Lupin were my age, and not teaching…in that I probably wouldn't even be attracted to him. I mean, hello! His older-manliness and professorship is half the sexiness!

Hmm. Trying to imagine Oliver as a middle-aged professor…

* * *

Denise never responded to my note. Figuring that she was satisfied with my response, I went back to paying attention to McGonagall until the end of class. When she dismissed us, I quickly got up and turned to face Denise. I was about to ask her if she had read my note when she slapped me on the arm…

"Go, talk to him!" she hissed, nudging her head backwards.

I looked over her shoulder and saw that Oliver had already gotten up to leave. I turned back to Denise and gave her the best puppy eyes I could muster. "Er…now?"

"Yes! Go! I'll take your things for you to the Great Hall…just meet me there when you're done!"

"But"—

"Talk to him!"

I sighed and hurried after Oliver. As I came out into the hallway, I spotted him almost immediately. However, he wasn't alone. Yep. What with my fan-bloody-tastically good luck, it was bound to happen. Madeline had already beaten me to him. They were walking off together, chatting all…happily. Both of them! Even Oliver…It was rather sickening.

I glanced back to see if Denise could be found in the corridors, but she wasn't. She had either already headed to the Great Hall going in the opposite direction, or she was still in the classroom. With a small sigh, I decided to head down for lunch, taking the long way…behind Oliver and Madeline. On the plus side, I wasn't too far away from them, and they were talking loud enough for me to hear. This is certainly my week for eavesdropping, I know…

"It's just amazing! Seriously…it's got this diamond-hard polish…" I heard Oliver exclaim with a sigh.

Madeline glanced at Oliver and smiled. "Yeah?"

Bitch. She sounds almost patronizing! I picked up my pace a little to keep up with them, though making sure to glance at the walls every so often, pretending to be interested in the portraits should they ever turn around and find me walking behind them.

"Yeah," Oliver echoed her. "I just can't believe someone from Gryffindor actually has a Firebolt. Did I tell you that it came with its own registration number?"

"Twice." Madeline replied in the same sugary voice that she always used with me whenever I…well, she _always_ uses that voice with me...

Oliver laughed. Sigh. I rarely hear him laugh…and when he does, it's so adorable…

"Sorry," he said, sounding rather sheepish. "I just still can't over the fact that Potter has a Firebolt…"

I grinned. I could. This morning in the loos, I found that someone had etched a funny looking broomstick on the wall (I say funny looking because it bore some resemblance to male anatomy…except with bristles. I know. Gross.), and underneath it, is said _Harry Potter has the biggest broomstick ever!_ I literally cringed…I remember being extremely grossed out…I mean, ew. Harry's like, thirteen. He's thirteen and underage. Yuck. I'm so proud of myself, I'm not as freakishly pervy as I had once thought myself to be…

Still walking several feet behind Oliver and Madeline, who had now moved onto discussing the latest gossip about pop singer Celestina Warbeck (per Madeline's request, having gotten bored listening to Oliver swoon over Harry's broomstick), I decided to take a detour by way of the stairs, to get away from them. I should get to the Great Hall to meet Denise and tell her I couldn't talk to Oliver. She's probably sitting there waiting for me, thinking that I'm talking to Oliver right now, charming him into believing that I'm a much more desirable, much sexier girlfriend material than Madeline. Ok, so she's probably not thinking of that…she's probably sitting in the Great Hall having a dignified conversation with Ernie Macmillan, agreeing to date his brother. Probably negotiating an appropriate amount of dowry too…

* * *

And the weekend has arrived all too fast. Seriously…where the hell did the week go? I can't even remember how I spent it. I remember something about class…something about being depressed over Oliver, and over Professor Lupin…but it all seemed so far away now. I could care less about them at the moment, and that is because today—in exactly one hour—I am meeting with a representative from the _Daily Prophet_ for an interview. I think I'm going to gag.

Denise and I were walking down the path that led to Hogsmeade in complete silence. I was nervous as hell about my interview, and Denise was a wreck over her date with Vince. They were meeting up…somewhere. I can't remember where, actually…I was too busy trying to decide how to put my hair this morning to hear Denise frantically go over her itinerary. I ended up putting it in a bun—I thought it looked most professional that way. Actually, I look a bit like a librarian. I thought of wearing my hair down, but it made me look rather whore-ish…like one of those slutty secretaries you see in offices who you _know_ are doing their bosses after business hours…anyway, I don't want to give off that impression, however likely I am to do such things if I had a good-looking boss…

"Suzie!" Denise gasped, pulling me out of my worries.

"What? What happened?" I asked, stopping in my tracks.

She shook her head wildly with her eyes shut. "The wind just blew your skirt up a bit! Did you not feel it or something?"

I looked down at my skirt, which was in fact blowing a little from the wind. What a cute skirt. Now, I'm not much of a dress gal, but I just love this skirt. It's so flippy and pretty, and actually makes me feel like I'm hot stuff.

I giggled as I looked around to make sure no one was near enough to witness my accidental flashing. "I'm sorry…did I expose you?"

"Yes! I saw your cauldron cake underwear!" Denise exclaimed with a shutter. "Why aren't you wearing a slip under your skirt?"

I shrugged, pressing down on my skirt to keep it from flying up again. "I don't have one."

Denise rolled her eyes at me. "Oh Suzie…"

"Oh Denise…"

She glared at me. "Just watch your skirt…and make sure you keep your legs crossed during your interview, ok?"

I grinned. "Unless the interviewer is a man, right?" Mmm. Being pervy really helps calm the nerves…

Denise sighed in response.

"So where are you going again to meet the _Daily Prophet_ guy?" she asked me after a few moments of silence.

We had just reached Hogsmeade, and I was squinting to read one of the street signs further up ahead of us. "Um…Isabella's?"

"Oh…where's that?"

I shrugged. "No idea."

Denise glanced at her watch. "Ok…I have to meet Vince in a few minutes at Madam Pudifoot's…Are you going to be ok?"

I smiled, trying to ignore the butterflies that had risen in my stomach. "Yeah…I'll ask around a bit…I'm sure I'll find it. Are _you_ going to be ok?"

Denise smiled nervously at me as she patted down her skirt. "Yes, yes…I'm fine! I'll be fine…I just…"

"Yeah?"

Denise's face fell…she looked like she was going to cry. "I can't remember how to get to Madam Pudifoot's, I'm so nervous!"

I giggled. "Aww…"

"Don't 'aww' me! Suzie, I don't know if I can do this! I haven't dated in ages!"

I rolled my eyes at her. "At least you've dated. Go on. You'll be fine. And you can remember where Madam Pudifoot's is…just go straight and make a left on that one street where Honeydukes is."

Denise took a deep breath. "Ok. Yes. I can do this."

"Of course you can."

"Ok…" Denise breathed. "I'll go…I'm going to meet Vince…and you go…do your interview."

I smiled. "Alright. Best of luck!"

Denise grinned nervously as she waved to me. "You too!"

* * *

Oh God. I am _so_ out of shape. I was huffing by the time I found Isabella's Coffee Company. And I was barely on time. I hurried into the café, hoping to spot a mirror, or a really clean glass window where I could check my reflection. It was cold outside, but I could feel myself sweating from the quick pace at which I was walking. And my hair…I want to cry. I spent forever trying to tame it into this pretty, delicately understated bun that just screamed 'professional'…and I could feel it hanging from my head like a lumpy potato. Not quite sure what sort of person I was looking for, I glanced around the spacious café, hoping for someone to just walk up to me and ask if I was Suzie Hennessey…

But no one did. I stood there at the entrance for a few minutes, waiting for someone to ask me if I was here for a job interview. There were several people sitting alone at tiny tables sipping coffee from tiny cups who looked like they could have been waiting for me, but I could hardly go up to each of them and ask them if they were waiting for me…argh! Damn you, _Daily Prophet_, for humiliating me like this!

"Hello, Miss...May I help you?"

I almost jumped. I hadn't even noticed that one of the waitresses had approached me.

"Oh! Um…well, I'm waiting for someone." I replied. "Not exactly sure who, I wasn't given a name, but it was for"—

"The _Daily Prophet_?" a voice asked behind me.

A short young man had just entered the café. And oh my _God_ was he hot!

"Oh, yes! That's me!" I said a little too excitedly. Damn. I was trying to go for pleasantly relieved…

"Excellent!" he said, waving at the waitress to dismiss her as he led me to a nearby table. "You must be Suzie Hennessey then?"

"Yes, that's me." I replied, extending my hand out to him.

"Wonderful," he said, taking my hand. "I'm Sergio Navarro, and I am in charge of recruiting for the _Daily Prophet_! Nice to finally meet you. Have a seat!"

Mmm. Sergio. No wonder. He looks so Mediterranean. And so cute! And so…closer to my age than Professor Lupin! He looked like he was in his mid to late twenties. Hmm. I wonder if I'll have to sleep with him to get the job, because in all honesty, I wouldn't mind that much…

"Well Suzie," he started as a waitress approached us to take our orders, "what will you have?"

"Oh!" I glanced up at the waitress, who was the same woman who had asked me earlier if I needed help, "Er…plain cup of coffee is fine, thanks."

"Make mine a latte." Sergio told the woman. Gosh. He has a cute little accent too!

As the waitress left, he turned his attention back to me. "Alright, let's go ahead and get started! Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself, Suzie?"

Ugh. The question I loathe. Where the hell does one begin with those sorts of questions? I mean, obviously he doesn't want to know my favorite color or my life story…ok…so…I suppose academic and professional related stuff would be the best place to start…

"Well," I began, "I'm in my final year at Hogwarts…um…it's been pretty nice, though pretty busy. I ended up taking all the classes I qualified for after my OWL exams, mainly because I wanted my background to be as well-rounded as possible. I don't want to find myself limited in what I'll be able to write professionally, you know?"

I couldn't help but smile. That was hardly the truth. I ended up continuing with most of my classes after fifth year because I didn't know what the hell I wanted to do with my life, so my parents made me sign up for whatever I could get into. I'm just feeling very fortunate that I was able to think of a nice fringe benefit like that on the spot.

Sergio nodded. "Right. Very wise. So tell me, what classes are you enrolled in right now?"

"Um…Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Charms, Magical History, and Potions." I replied.

He nodded, smiling at me and looking rather impressed. That's right. Take that, Sergio baby!

"That _is _a full schedule." He said. "Though undoubtedly useful—as you said—if you want to pursue a journalistic career. At the _Daily Prophet_ we like our writers to have soaked their feet in as many aspects of the wizarding world as possible."

I nodded in agreement as I took a sip of the coffee that just been brought to me. We talked on for another fifteen minutes about school and my writing interests, and occasionally he'd slip in questions that seemed to test my knowledge about current affairs. ("So, how do you feel about the presence of dementors at your school in aiding the search for Sirius Black?") I am pleased to announce that so far, I think I've made a relatively good impression. And I also must admit, I am pretty damn good at sucking up. Sergio had mentioned a few moments ago that he was from Spain, so I jumped in and exclaimed that I had always wanted to go to Spain. At first I thought I had messed up by letting it slip that the main reason I wanted to go was to see a bull fight so I could see those cute little men in their bull fighting costumes. For an instant, I thought I had lost the job. But then Sergio laughed and said I had a colorful personality. I certainly hope he meant it in a good way. But anyway, I took the opportunity to engage him in a great discussion about Spanish culture, and he seemed totally impressed by my interest in his home country. Yay.

"Well, no surprise that you're so interested in learning about Spain," he said with a smile as he looked down at the papers he had laid out in front of him, "it says here on your application that you speak Spanish!"

Oh God.

"¿Cuántos años has estado estudiando español?"

Crap. I understood 'Spanish'…and I think what might have been some variation of 'study'. Ok, how do I get out of this one? God. I'm such an idiot! Why did I have to embellish on my application? I know like, only five words in Spanish…

I laughed nervously. "My Spanish is a bit rusty. I only studied it for a few years, and it was a long time ago." I said, praying silently that Sergio still found me charming and would be able to overlook this one pathetic moment of mine.

"Ah…right." He said as he quickly scribbled something down on the paper in front of him. Oh God. Probably making a note: "compulsive liar."

I couldn't recover after that. I was just too embarrassed at my stupidity, and being caught red-handed as a ditzy, monolingual liar. The rest of my interview went rather shakily…I was just so spazzed. I couldn't even remember what sections of the _Daily Prophet_ I liked when he asked me. I felt like crying. I was _so_ close to getting this job, and I let it slip away. I hate myself…

A few minutes later, Sergio wrapped things up by saying he would be going over the credentials of all the candidates with his boss, Scott Kelley, and they would contact me if I got the job. Automatically, I stood up, smiled as I thanked him, and shook his hand. And after I bid him a good day, I left hurriedly in the direction of the Three Broomsticks, where I could drown my sorrows in a butterbeer.

* * *

I hugged myself from the cold as I walked down one of Hogsmeade's crowded streets. Gosh. I should have worn a thicker coat…I should have worn a longer coat…one that would cover my legs, because oh my _God_ are they numb. I'm wearing tights, but that's hardly enough. And my stupid shoes…they were killing me, because not only were they uncomfortable, but they didn't work well with ice and snow. (I've come close to slipping about four times in the past fifteen minutes). But they were the only ones I had that looked nice enough for an interview. Stupid interview, stupid job…I feel like I got all dressed up for nothing.

I was about to cross the street, but stopped in front of Honeydukes. Across from me was Madam Pudifoot's, and Denise had just stepped out of it, followed by Vince. I stood in my place, deciding I didn't want to cross the street just yet. It would be awkward running into them while they were on their first date. Still hugging myself, I backed up against the wall of Honeydukes in attempts to conceal myself. I didn't want Denise to see me…she was so nervous before her date, I imagine anything, even seeing me, might throw her off and distract her from her date.

Yet she didn't look so distracted right now. She was holding hands with Vince, and she was giggling at something he had said. I couldn't help but laugh myself at the sight of Denise. Even in the distance, I could tell that she was blushing. And she was looking at the ground as Vince smiled at her…geez, she's so shy! It's kind of cute, actually. And I'm betting Vince agrees, as he was currently staring at Denise even more intently and fondly while she acted all girlish.

Instead of crossing the street, I decided to keep walking along the same street so I could go back to the castle. I didn't really have anything to do here anyway, and I certainly don't want to run into Vince and Denise _now_, and interrupt their fun…gosh, they looked really cute back there. Especially Denise. I just love how she manages to look so dignified and feminine like that when she's being courted by a guy. Hmph. Only people like Denise can be courted. You don't use words like that on people like me…and in all honesty, I'm not sure how I feel about that…

As I walked by Zonko's, I stopped to stare into the window. I could see my reflection in it, staring right back at me. I couldn't help but sigh. I don't get it. I always thought I was at least somewhat pretty. I mean, I've never really thought of myself as ugly…but now I'm starting to wonder. I mean, look at me. I'm seventeen years old, and I've never really dated. I've never really had the admiration of any guy…and I'm starting to wonder why. Am I not pretty enough? I mean, I know there's a million girls out there who are prettier than me, and I've accepted it (except in the case of Madeline…I swear, people like her don't deserve to be so pretty)…but I always thought I was decent-looking enough to be considered attractive. I mean, geez…I've seen nappier looking men and women have love lives. So I don't know. Maybe it's my personality. But again, I've seen worse people than me have love lives. (And again, let us all remember Madeline!)

Not that I'm jealous of Denise…I mean, I _am_ happy for her. She deserves to have someone. She's sweet and kind, and Vince is lucky to have her…but…I just…I wish I had someone. I wish Denise could tell _me_, "He's lucky to have you, Suzie…" But there is no one…

And my day just keeps getting worse. While I'm moping about my spinster existence, I get knocked down by someone passing by me, and naturally, I fell right on my butt. Well, it least it's sizeable enough to break my fall…

"Shit, I'm so sorry!"

I glanced up at the person who had knocked me over, and realized it was Oliver.

* * *

stay tuned, more is one the way:) 


	12. Roger Davies

_A/N: So I like this chapter, but I don't…I like how it's progressing, but I'm well aware of the lack of humor in this chapter and it's bothering me a little. I would've attempted to make it funnier, but I don't want to force it, you know? (I feel like I'm conversing with myself. lol) I just wanted the story to flow by itself…live and let live..or something.. P so anyway, I guess if it results in a not-so-humorous chapter I guess I have to let it be. ( but in any case, I hope you enjoy. And er…sorry to those who believed me and thought I'd keep my word and update by the end of the weekend. I suck. -hides-_

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Chapter 12: Roger Davies

* * *

I glanced up at the person who had knocked me over, and realized it was Oliver. Oh…great? I'm not really sure. A million things are running through my head. I'm mad at him for making me fall and for dating Madeline and for a million other things, but I'm somewhat excited to see him. Maybe we can talk and set things straight once and for all…

He extended his hand out to me and I took it. Amazing how uplifted I'm suddenly feeling at having Oliver Wood help me up.

"I'm so sorry," he said again, "are you alright? I was just…well, I didn't see you…I'm sorry"—

I shook my head as I brushed down my skirt. "It's alright. I suppose I couldn't truly call my day pitiful if I hadn't fallen on my butt at least once today. So thanks for that…I hereby bestow bitching rights upon myself for the rest of the evening."

"Well, you're welcome then." Oliver said, smiling slightly. We both fell silent, and in that moment, he glanced over me. "You look nice." He said.

I could feel myself blush. "Oh! Thanks…er…I had a job interview…so I couldn't exactly go in sweats today…"

"Yeah? With who?"

"Daily Prophet."

Oliver nodded. "Did it go well?"

I shrugged. "Hard to say…I"—I stopped talking when I realized Oliver wasn't paying attention. He was turning his head left and right, as if checking for eavesdroppers or something. I was about to ask him what he was doing, but then he took a hold of my arm and began pulling me along the street.

"Join me for a drink?" he asked, though he wasn't even looking at me as he was currently focusing on guiding me through the throngs of students and shoppers on the streets.

"Um…alright."

We came near The Three Broomsticks, but we didn't go inside. "It's too crowded in there," he said when I began to ask him where we were going, "I thought we should talk…you know, and I thought we should go somewhere quieter…"

"Oh! Right. Good idea." I replied. Oh my God. My heart is beating at like, a million miles per second. He wants to talk! I'm assuming it's about us. Ok. I mustn't get my hopes up. I mean, he's still dating Madeline, isn't he? So don't assume he's got anything good to say, even if he did approach me first…

"Is the Hog's Head alright?" he asked after a few minutes. We had stopped in front of the dingy looking pub only momentarily, and before I could make any objections, he had already started walking towards the entrance. Well…isn't this romantic?

"I know it seems a little dodgy," Oliver started as he held the door open for me, "but it's much quieter around here…I didn't want…well, any of our classmates to come and interrupt us if we're in the middle of talking about something serious."

"A _little_ dodgy?" I repeated as I stepped through the threshold. The pub was dimly lit and smelled like barnyard animals or something.

Oliver shrugged. "It can't be that bad. See the old bloke behind the counter over there?" he asked quietly, pointing out an old, grumpy looking wizard wiping glasses behind the pub counter. "That's supposed to be Professor Dumbledore's brother."

"Shut up!" I said with a small laugh. "Seriously? That man over there is related to Dumbledore?"

"Yep. So the associations here aren't all bad." Oliver replied. "Anyway, what'll you have?"

"Butterbeer is fine."

I followed Oliver to the counter, where Dumbledore's supposed brother was working. He immediately stopped his glass wiping though when he noticed us.

"Er—two butterbeers, please." Oliver said, handing the man a couple of gold coins.

The man simply grunted in response as he took the coins and disappeared underneath the counter. He reemerged shortly though with two rather dusty-looking bottles of butterbeer, and handed one to each of us.

"Thanks!" I said, smiling at him as I took my bottle. Um…ok. I think I offended him by smiling. He was staring at me. I feel like I should say something…

"So…" I said as I popped the lid off my butterbeer, "you're Professor Dumbledore's brother?"

He cocked an eyebrow at me in response, and a moment later began to wipe down the counter with the rag he had been using to clean glasses.

"Um…alright…well, nice to meet you!" I said when I realized Oliver had put his hand on my back and was trying to lead me away from Dumbledore's brother and towards a table.

"Not the most talkative fellow…" Oliver said as he pulled out a chair for me.

We both sat down and drank our butterbeer in silence for a few moments. Finally, Oliver put his bottle down with a small thud, startling me a bit.

"So, I suppose we should get straight to the point." He said.

"Alright." I replied quietly. And anxiously. Oh God. He's going to tell me Madeline's pregnant or something…

"Well," he began, "I have to say…this is kind of hard to talk about…I've never…well, talked about these sort of things. But I think we needed to talk."

"Definitely." I chimed, trying to make sure he knew I was being a good listener. It's like a final, desperate attempt to show him that I can be a good girlfriend. Stupid I know, but that's me. Huh. Suddenly enlightened as to why I probably don't have a boyfriend.

Oliver nodded. "Right. So…I have to admit, I was really surprised when you…told me how you felt, back on the train a few days ago..."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I wasn't expecting it at all. Hell, I didn't even know you liked me."

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Seriously?"

I could see that he was blushing. Usually I found that sort of stuff to be unbelievably adorable, but now…wow. We're just really in serious mode here…no room for admiring the cute little things about him…or pointing out double entendres whenever I notice them…no room for joking…this makes me feel rather uneasy...

Oliver shrugged. "Really…you've never done anything to suggest that you liked me."

I wanted to contradict him and point out all the instances where I've acted pervy around him (which in my books counts as flirting), the whole tutoring bit we had, and hello! The fact that even he accused me of giving Madeline that tripped up toffee from Fred and George (I still don't see how he thought that that was a sign of me being jealous of Madeline, rather than me simply being mad that she had him). However, I stayed quiet. I didn't really want to open up a can of worms or get into a fight about any of that stuff, as we've already done a few times now.

"Anyway," he continued, "it never occurred to me that you had feelings for me…and now…well, I guess we are where we are."

I glanced up at him. "We are where we are?"

He was staring at his butterbeer. "Yeah. The thing is I'm dating Madeline…"

"So I've heard…"

He finally looked up at me. "Well…that's it though, isn't it? I mean, you like me…but…I'm with Madeline."

"Uh huh."

I felt a bit numb. So I guess that's that…

"I'm...well, I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you…" Oliver said quickly. "You hate me, don't you?"

I shrugged. "No."

"You say that with so much conviction." He replied sarcastically.

I looked up at him and smiled. "Really, I don't hate you." And with considerable effort, I added, "You didn't do anything wrong."

"So…do you think we could be friends? You know, forget about everything that's happened in the past between us…"

I forced a smile. "Sure. I'm sorry about…well, everything that happened between us. I got a bit bitchy sometimes…"

Oliver laughed. "Understandably. I haven't exactly been a gentleman with you myself…having said a few mean things to you and whatnot…so, I'm sorry about that."

I shrugged. "It's alright."

"Good." Oliver replied. "So…we're alright then?"

"Yeah, we're alright."

We sat there in silence for a few more minutes, drinking our butterbeer, until an old wizard in a Chudley Cannons sweatshirt walked by us, which of course got Oliver talking again. He began talking about the current season—I wasn't sure if he was talking about professional quidditch or the house teams—but apparently his team was doing pretty well. I nodded and smiled, pretending I was listening, when really all I wanted to do was scream at him.

Like hell we're alright. I am definitely not alright. Of course, he can't know that because I already told him I was alright. I'm starting to regret that I hadn't blown up at him and told him that I wasn't alright. But it's too late to go back into that subject because now we're talking about quidditch. Actually, now we're talking about Harry Potter and his stupid Firebolt.

But I can't say anything now. Not about_ our _situation…that conversation is over. Not that I'd really have anything to say anyway. I mean, what _could_ I say? Yell at him for not being attracted to me? It's not his fault, I suppose…I just wish he could be a bigger ass about all this, so I could at least justify my anger towards him. But he wasn't being an ass. He was fairly nice about it. I mean, he could've done it better, maybe he could've been nicer about it, but then again it's Oliver…gentleness isn't really one of his fortes, so I guess I have to make some allowances for him. But by his standards, he was pretty nice to me…and now he's being all friendly with me, sitting here talking to me like I'm an old friend of his!

Well, he _did_ say he wanted to be friends, and I guess I would be quite the bitch if I rebuffed him. Sigh. Ok. I can be friends with Oliver. I have male friends…hell, I even have some cute male friends (ok, maybe Cedric Diggory is the only seriously good-looking male friend I have). So why can't he just be another one of them? Alright...so from now on, Oliver Wood is just my friend. I used to have a crush on him, but he's my friend, so I got over him and moved on. Hopefully I'll be able to say that truthfully with time…hopefully in the next few days, as I have a huge transfiguration exam next week and can't afford to be distracted mentally or emotionally…

"Anyway," Oliver continued several minutes later, "I'm looking into professional quidditch teams right now…Chudley Cannons for one, as they're interested in me…but I'd do anything to play for Puddlemere United. They've really made some serious improvements these past few years…"

I nodded, draining the last of my butterbeer. Not surprised. I can't even imagine Oliver doing anything else. Oh, well…maybe being a flying instructor, like Madam Hooch…but I don't know how much patience he'd have teaching little kids how to fly. He barely had any patience teaching me potion…and he hated that subject…imagine how fanatical he'd get teaching children about his passion. Hmm. The image of Oliver bringing an entire group of first years to tears due to his yelling at them for not gripping their broom handles with care has uplifted my mood considerably.

"Hey, do you want another drink?" Oliver asked me as he pushed aside his empty butterbeer bottle and pulled out his wallet. "I'm out myself—damn!"

He had been trying to pull his wallet out, and as he finally got it out of his back pocket, the wallet flew open, causing several coins and stubs of paper to explode all over the table. Oh, and how convenient. A sickle hit me right in the chest, and fell through my shirt. Great. Not only am I a soon to-be spinster woman, but I suddenly feel like a whore, and cheap one at that.

I pulled at my blouse, hoping to coax the sickle into shimmying down into my lap. But of course, since my day has just been destined to be sucky, I realized that the sickle was lodged into my bra. Oh for Merlin's sake…

"Um…what are you doing?"

I glanced up at Oliver. He was looking at me rather bewildered. Well, understandably, seeing as how I've got a hand stuck down my shirt…

"Oh! Well"—I let my hands fall at my sides—"your sickle…it…well, one of your sickles flew into my shirt…I was just trying to get it out!"

Oliver cocked an eyebrow at me. Oh, there's the sexy look I know and love…oh right. I'm supposed to be de-sexing Oliver…or something.

"Er…don't worry about it." He said as he got up. And as he did so, a couple of stubs of paper, which had probably flown out of his wallet earlier, fell onto the ground and landed near me. Oliver, however, didn't notice and was already on his way to the bar to get us refills. I leaned forward and made a grab for the slips of parchment. I turned them over, and immediately realized they were tickets. Oh, **_hell _**no…

ADMIT ONE

**THE WEIRD SISTERS – LIVE IN CONCERT**

I didn't notice the rest of the information on the tickets…all I could see was _Weird Sisters_…He's a Weird Sisters fan? _I'm_ a Weird Sisters fan! And you know who_ isn't_? Madeline! God. And he has two tickets! I swear, if he's taking that cow…

"Alright…got the drinks!"

I glanced up at Oliver, who had just come back to the table with two bottles of butterbeer in his hands. As he sat down and slid one of the bottles over to me, he leaned back in his chair and smiled. "So…what's going on with you?"

Folding my hands on the tabletop, conveniently covering the tickets, I smiled back. I can't believe he likes the Weird Sisters. I mean I love them, but most people who think they're cool and know better despise them…like Madeline for instance. Hmm…maybe Oliver's a closet fan. Time to find out…

"Oh, not much." I replied. "Hey, actually while you were gone getting us drinks, you totally missed this group of kids passing by outside…they were all wearing Weird Sister shirts. God, I swear if they only had a mirror so they could see themselves…"

Oliver laughed and took a sip of his drink. "Yeah?"

I nodded, grinning (for once, not like an idiot. What a proud moment for me.) "Yeah, they looked like they were about twelve or thirteen or something. Seriously, I just want to hex some sense into those kinds of kids, you know? Or at least go up to them and tell them that no one cares if they dye their hair black, cut themselves and brood in the darkness of their rooms while listening to the Weird Sisters moan about death and destruction of mankind, and that they need to get over it…I swear, they're so annoying."

Oliver chuckled into his drink. "Oh yeah, I know what you mean…the Weird Sisters are amongst the most obnoxious groups of musicians I've ever heard…and the people who listen to them…well, they should just be flogged or something…"

Sigh. Ok, so I'm probably going to be sitting miserably in my room, crying to myself over my lost love in a few hours' time….but right now I'm thoroughly enjoying myself.

I grinned. "So glad you're with me on this. Hey…did you know they're going on tour this summer? They're supposed to be going around the world, and have a sort of finale over in Liverpool, I think…"

Oliver took another sip of his drink, and staring down at the table, he muttered something about not knowing that. Gosh. This is fun. However, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end…

I lifted one of my hands, and used the other hand to slide the tickets across the table to him. I tried looking at him squarely and somberly, like those thuggish underworld wizards do when they're making illegal deals in dingy bars like the Hog's Head, but it didn't work out too well. I ended up trying to press my lips together to keep from smiling, and when Oliver asked me if I had to pee or something (I have _no_ idea how the two are connected), I burst into a fit of laughter (sadly, there was snorting involved) and called him a poser.

"Um…_what_?" he asked, looking at me concernedly. But a moment later he glanced down at the tickets I had slid to his side of the table and…ok, the look on his face was classic: it froze. I mean, seriously…his face just tensed up and slowly began turning into a delicate shade of pink. Now, I have no idea if this has anything to do with the fact that I just got rejected by Oliver Wood, but I have never felt so good about embarrassing someone. Sigh. I'm mean…

Oliver snatched the tickets and stuffed them into his pocket. "Where did you find them?" he demanded.

I sniggered. "They must've flown out of your wallet from before."

He glared at me. "For your information, these tickets aren't mine. I just…I just bought them for Madeline…_she_ likes them."

I snorted into my drink…which definitely proved to be a bit awkward, as I sucked in some of my butterbeer and choked on it, spitting some of it onto the table. Oliver leaned back so as to avoid being hit by the brief butterbeer shower, and passed some napkins my way while he wore this look of slight disgust on his face. Great. Not only have I been rejected, but he finds me repulsive. Jerk.

"She does _not_ like them!" I replied as I took a napkin and wiped my mouth. "She said so a few days ago…because she was making fun of me for liking them."

Oliver's jaw dropped slightly as he pointed an accusing finger at me. "You just spent the past five minutes bashing the Weird Sisters!"

I stuck my tongue out at him as I proceeded to clean my spat-up butterbeer off the table. "I was just messing with you, Oliver. I love the Weird Sisters. I was just testing to see if you were game enough to admit that you like them too. And apparently you're too big a wimp…I've suddenly lost all respect for you."

I couldn't help but grin, as it took Oliver several seconds to find something to say._ Finally_, I feel like I've got the upper hand over someone. I almost never get that feeling! I mean, usually I feel so powerless, constantly being at the mercy of professors and other students who are wittier or more confident than me. But at this moment, I'm feeling quite empowered. Yeah, go me!

"Well…you brought up the subject of the Weird Sisters, and you were going on about how stupid they were," Oliver said quickly, still frowning at me, "I figured you'd just harass me to no end about it if I disagreed with you!"

I laughed. "Seriously?"

"Yes"—

"You're afraid of me?"

Oliver sighed. I leered at him in a way I knew he'd be annoyed with. "I'm not _afraid_ of you. I just didn't want to be made fun of…but I can see that's inevitable when around you."

"Yeah, well…that's why you're a wimp. You should be man enough to admit that you're a Weird Sisters fan…and really be able to revel in that fact! I mean, you don't see me pretending to hate them…" I said.

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Except for just now…"

I scowled at him. "I was just doing that to prove a point. Anyway…my point is, part of the whole Weird Sisters fan package is to endure a little harassment and humiliation. I mean, again, Madeline was making fun of me the other day about it, but I endured it gracefully. I did not back down and cower at the slightest insult…I swear, Oliver, even I have more balls than you."

"I'll alert the Magical Hermaphrodite Society." Oliver replied as he stirred his drink with his straw.

I grinned, but ignored his jibe. "So, does Madeline know you love them? I mean, she doesn't even think they qualify as musicians."

"I don't _love_ them. I like them," Oliver replied, "and what were you doing talking to Madeline? I thought you didn't like her."

"I wasn't talking to her. I was talking to Denise before class, and she butted into the conversation and laughed at me because I said I liked the Weird Sisters." I explained.

I looked at him expectantly, wondering if he was going to throw his butterbeer at me or at the very least give, me a dirty look. But he didn't. He just fell silent and began stirring his drink again. Ok…did I say something wrong? I mean, I'm sure he doesn't want to hear about the bitchiness of his girlfriend, but hey, it's not my fault she acts that way. He asked me a question about her, and I answered truthfully…I didn't even embellish! Why's he turning cold on me? If anything, he should apologize on behalf of his girlfriend…or say _something_ at least…geez.

"So…" I started again uncomfortably, "you like the Weird Sisters too, huh? That's cool! So…um…if Madeline doesn't like them, who're you going with?"

Oliver looked up from his drink. "Huh?"

Oh honestly. You cannot be that bored by me.

"You have two tickets," I said, "If Madeline doesn't like them, who're you going with to the concert?"

Oliver shrugged. "Oh…I don't know. My dad got them free at work and gave them to me. I haven't figured out what I'm going to do with the extra ticket yet."

"Oh…ok."

And the empowering mood I was just in has suddenly died. Ok, did he not hear my proclamation of my undying love for the Weird Sisters? Take _me_, idiot! Aren't we friends now? And isn't that what friends do…go to concerts together? Hmm…maybe it's because I offended him by talking about Madeline…God, he's so sensitive…

Or maybe just really oblivious, because in the next moment, he started asking me about my opinions on the Weird Sisters' latest record, and soon we got into a debate on the quality of their music and whether they've gotten better or worse over the years. He laughed and called me moronic when I accused the Weird Sisters of catering to their demographics with their latest song, "Do the Hippogriff". Hmm. So sweet, that Oliver.

It was not until half an hour and a fourth drink later ("I swear, butterbeer isn't that strong!" Oliver insisted as he brought me another bottle from the bar) that we finally headed back to the castle together. It's so weird. We hung out for over an hour together. We've never done that. He walked me back to the castle, all the way to the Great Hall, and told me he had fun and that he was glad we got to hang out. He even said we should hang out together more often. It was perfect…almost. The only thing missing from all this was the whole romantic mood…the closeness, the kissing at the end, the I'm-missing-you-already look you give each other when you're parting…It's just so weird that finally I got to spend time with Oliver, I finally got to have a fun, not-so-awkward-for-the-most-part meeting with him. It's—without sounding too lame—all I ever wanted with him. Yet it's nothing like I thought it'd be because the romantic element wasn't there.

* * *

"Suzie, are you alright?"

I glanced up from my dinner to look at Cedric Diggory, who had pushed aside his dinner and was now writing something on a sheet of parchment. "You haven't eaten a thing since dinner started. Did you eat a lot in Hogsmeade or something?"

I put down my fork, which up until now I was using to poke holes into my mashed potatoes. "Nah. I haven't eaten anything all day actually…just a coffee and a few butterbeers. I think that's why I'm not so hungry…"

Cedric looked up from his work and smiled, cocking an eyebrow at me. "How much is a few?"

"Just four." I replied, making a face at him. Geez. I'm not so pathetic as to get drunk off of butterbeer. If I was going to get pissed in broad day light during a school trip, I sure as hell wouldn't be using something as weak as butterbeer. I mean if you're going to do something that's going to get you at worst expelled, do it right. Drink massive amounts of firewhiskey and swing from the chandelier in the Great Hall while singing the school song. Well, that's what my great-great grandfather did, apparently…

He nodded and went back to his writing. "Four isn't enough to do any damage I suppose. I think you'd need a few more…"

I sniggered. "Look at you, talking like you know your drinks or something. Professor Sprout will have your prefect badge if she gets wind of this…"

Cedric rolled his eyes. "I only know because my cousin owns a pub over in Southampton and he knows how strong or weak all the drinks are. Anyway," he added in a sarcastic voice, "You know I'm too good of a boy to speak from actual first-hand experience."

"This is true." I said, smiling sweetly at Cedric as he glanced up to scowl at me for agreeing with him. "So, what are you working on right now?"

He dipped his quill in his ink bottle and then tapped it against the rim of the bottle to get rid of the excess ink. "Letter to my dad…he wrote me this morning and said he was going to try to get tickets to the Quidditch World Cup this summer…hey, do you think you're going to go? You're welcome to come with us, if we end up going. My dad said we'd probably go with the Weasleys…share a portkey or something and go together."

I smiled. "Thanks. I don't know though. You know I'm not too crazy about quidditch, or sharing a toilet with Percy Weasley."

Cedric laughed. "Fair point."

As Cedric continued on his letter to his father, I stared at my plate. I should really eat because sadly, I think four butterbeers was enough to get me a little unsteady, and I have a feeling I might be sick tomorrow. Plus, the butterbeer at the Hog's Head tasted a little different from the butterbeer they serve at the Three Broomsticks. I wouldn't be surprised if that old brother of Dumbledore's tampered with the drinks or something. God, I can't believe those two are related…

After a few minutes, I forced myself to eat some potatoes. They were cold now and tasted like feet…or something. I thought back about Cedric's invitation to the World Cup. He's so sweet. And I mean at least he has the balls to invite a girl to go somewhere. Er…I mean guts…ugh, the idea of Cedric and his anatomy makes me feel a little weird. I think it's this whole distant cousin thing we've got going now…

So anyway, back to these potatoes…they suck. I feel like taking my fork and use it to fling the potatoes across the room at Oliver. Or just across the Hufflepuff table at Madeline. I'm not really feeling particularly picky tonight. Hell, I could even hit them at Cedric, just for bringing up the Quidditch World Cup. Quidditch reminded me of Oliver…Cedric offering me tickets to the game reminded me of Oliver and his Weird Sisters tickets…I know Cedric's completely innocent, but I really want to fling these potatoes at someone. I need a catharsis…

I glanced over my shoulder to see if Oliver was still sitting at the Gryffindor table, and saw that he had just gotten up and was heading towards the door. I craned my neck back to watch him leave. As he headed out the door, he bumped into a girl, and it wasn't until they pulled away and Oliver offered what looked like an apology that I realized that the girl was Denise. She was rather tiny compared to Oliver, so I couldn't really see her clearly until Oliver moved out of view. She laughed at something he said, waved him off and each of them continued on their way.

Almost automatically, I grabbed my purse from under my seat and got up.

"See you, Cedric…" I muttered as I swung my legs over the bench seat. He looked up briefly from his letter as he said good night.

I hurried around the Hufflepuff table, and took an indirect route, cutting between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables as I made my way to the door so Denise's path and mine wouldn't cross. When I reached the door, I looked back and saw that Denise had, as expected, taken the most direct route to our table and hadn't seen me. I could see that she was standing by the end of the Hufflepuff table, scanning the crowd for me. I hurried out of the Great Hall and headed towards our dormitory.

* * *

I couldn't help it. She just looked so pleased with herself. I know she's just dying to tell me about how great her date went. I honestly don't need to hear about it because I already caught a peek of it today, and I'm just not in any mood to hear about her wonderful life, only to have to tell her about my day when she asks about it. I honestly don't know what's worse – my sucky interview reminding me that I'm probably going to be unemployed for life, seeing Denise and Vince and being reminded that I'm single, or being rejected by Oliver thereby reminding me again that I'm single…

I entered the common room, which was empty save for Ernie Macmillan, who was sitting in a chair by the fire reading a book. I sighed and hurried towards the staircase the led to the girls' dormitories, hoping he wouldn't notice me. I usually didn't mind him, but tonight I just didn't want to deal with his annoying pomp…

"Oh, hi Suzie!" I heard him say as I reached the staircase.

"Hey Ernie…" I replied, not bothering to look back at him. Kind of hoping that he'll take a hint and leave me alone if I don't make eye contact with him…

"So, did you know Denise went out on a date with my brother today? I mean"—I heard him chuckle as he shut his book. Oh. Goody—"Of course you'd know…you two are best friends! Did she tell you about the date though? Did it go well? Did"—

"Oh my _God_, Ernie! No, I don't know how the date went!" I snapped. A bit too harshly, I think. I glanced back and saw that Ernie had a very startled look on his face. He nodded, mumbled an apology, and fell back into his seat and picked up his book. Oh great. I'm one of those horrible people who just take out their anger on innocent people. Man, twenty years from now I'm going to be one of those people with miserable marriages…hating my partner and in result of that I'll get slobbering drunk every night and take out my frustration on my kids…oh God, that's a sad picture. Also unrealistic, considering the fact that I'm going to be single for the rest of my bloody life. This is all Oliver's fault…

"Er…sorry, Ernie…" I said, trying to force a level of evenness in my voice. "I didn't mean…I just…I'm tired. I haven't talked to Denise yet about her date, but I do know she and your brother got together, and I think it's great."

Ernie nodded, and slowly the shocked, intimidated look melted from his countenance. With a sigh of relief that I didn't truly scar the poor kid, I went back to the staircase.

"I think it's great too"—

"Good night, Ernie…" I said, cutting him off as I went down the stairs.

* * *

I was the only one in the dormitory, thankfully. I fell onto my bed, and glanced at the clock sitting on my nightstand, which currently read 8:30 pm. I rested my head against my pillow, staring at the ceiling, wondering what Denise was doing right now…wondering what she was thinking. She was probably eating dinner right now, wondering passively where I was…maybe wondering how my interview went. She was probably reliving her day too, and probably excited to tell me about it. And she'll probably tell me about it when she come here. She'll ask me why she didn't see me at dinner, ask how the interview went…I'll tell her, and then tell her about my meeting with Oliver…then she'll feel all sorry for me and not want to tell me about how wonderful her date was, because being the sweet person she is, she won't want to rub it in. But if she bursts in here, all excited to tell me about her date, I'll have to listen and be happy for her. But then eventually she'll ask me about my day, and I'll tell her…and then she'll feel sorry for me and she'll feel guilty about having a great day when mine was…well, when mine wasn't. Either way, whoever talks first, she'll have to know…and she'll feel bad…and she doesn't need to. And I kind of hate it. The fact that my life just doesn't seem to fit in with hers right now…up until now, the way it's always been was our feelings were always in sync with each other. We always felt the same way…we always went through things together…it made us close. Hell, we even get our periods together, that's how chummy we've always been. And now…things are going well for her, while on my end…well, I know it could be worse. I don't want to wallow in self-pity…but compared to Denise, life isn't being that great to me at the moment.

Ten minutes later, I had changed into my pajamas, turned the lights out, and hid under my covers. I waited for Denise to come, deciding that when she did come in, calling my name, I would pretend to be asleep. In the back of my mind I knew I was being selfish, but at the same time I was tired and frustrated, and I just didn't want to deal with anyone, and I didn't want anyone dealing with me. I waited in the dark, every now and then glancing at my clock. 8:40. 8:50. 8:55. 9:15. She was still out there, probably in the common room by now. The last time I remember looking at the clock though was at 9:25. Some time after that I had fallen asleep.

* * *

"I swear, butterbeer isn't that strong, Suzie!"

I cast a sideways glance at Denise the next morning as she tried to shake me into getting up from my bed. God, why can't she leave me alone? About twenty minutes ago when she had tried to wake me up for the first time, I had mumbled something about having several bottles of butterbeer the day before, and proceeded to curse her for trying to wake me up on a Sunday morning.

"Sunday is the day of rest!" I whined as she tried pulling at my covers. "And you know I'm a cheap drunk!"

I heard her laugh. "I didn't know that actually…"

"I'm just figuring that out now, actually…so it's news for both of us." I replied as I pulled my blankets over my head and rolled onto my stomach. I am not coming out from under here any time soon. I'm unbelievably exhausted, and my head hurts. Geez. I'm so pathetic. I thought only house elves could get hung over on butterbeer.

"I brought you breakfast, Suzie…" Denise continued. I heard the thud of a plate against my nightstand. I could smell the fried eggs, the toast, and the cinnamon muffins...I stirred in bed, slightly tempted to pull myself up, for the eggs. Oh, my head. Ok, temptation gone.

"Suzie! Get up!" Denise started again, pulling a bit more aggressively at my blankets. "It's already ten o'clock! Up!"

"Die."

"Suzie, you need to eat! And we need to talk! We have so much to discuss!"

"Die twice…" I mumbled.

I heard Denise sigh. "I had sex with Vince yesterday, by the way."

I immediately sat up in my bed. I was still sleepy, and my eyes felt rather heavy, but at the moment they were wide-open, staring at Denise.

"You _what_?"

Denise smiled and handed me a muffin. "Eat."

"Denise!"

She laughed. "I just said that so you'd get up."

No words can describe my disappointment. Does she have any idea how much energy it took to pull myself up that fast? I think I've exhausted myself for the day. Hell, I think I pulled a muscle in my back with the speed at which I got up. I told her this and she merely passed me a glass of milk.

"Well, you weren't getting up, and I've been dying to talk to you! You were already asleep when I got back here last night!" Denise said as she plopped into bed next to me. "So…how was your interview?"

I shrugged as I began working on my muffin. "It was fine, I guess. The interviewer was gorgeous though. He was from Spain."

Denise rolled her eyes. "Was he nice? What did he ask you?"

"Yeah, he was nice…he just asked about my classes and the stuff I was learning, asked me some stuff about current affairs, my writing style, things like that." I replied, rubbing the back of my head.

Denise noticed this and frowned. "I thought Isabella's was a coffee shop. How did you get to drink all that butterbeer? You said something earlier this morning about having ninety nine bottles of butterbeer on the wall…"

I smiled slightly, having a fuzzy memory of saying something like that this morning. "I only had four."

"Seriously? You _are_ a cheap drunk. There's hardly any alcohol in that stuff…" Denise said with a giggle.

I rolled my eyes at her. "Oh, and I didn't have drinks with Sergio"—

"Who's Sergio?"

"The guy who interviewed me…"

"Oh! What a cute name!"

I smiled, remembering cute little Sergio with his cute little accent. "Yeah, he was cute…"

Denise giggled, but quickly shook her head, as usual coming back to her senses before I can. "Ok…so then, who did you go have drinks with?"

I leaned forward in my bed to make sure the room was empty…or at least that it was Madeline-free. "Oliver."

"Wood?"

"No, Oliver Hennessey, my imaginary baby brother—yes, Oliver Wood!"

Denise gasped, clasping her hands over her mouth. "Seriously?" she asked, dropping her hands to her sides, "You two hung out? Where? When? How did it happen? Did you guys talk about…you know, your situation?"

I nodded, and fell into an explanation of what had happened yesterday since my interview, though I left out the part about seeing her and Vince on their date. Wow. I can't believe how good it feels to get this off my chest, to tell Denise about all of this. I seriously feel like a small weight's been lifted off me…

"Ok," Denise said when I finished telling her about Oliver's secret Weird Sister fanaticism, "so…he said he didn't like you like that?"

I nodded. "Yeah…well…no, I mean he never came out and said he didn't like me…just that he was with Madeline…but I mean, obviously it was implied. Er…right?"

Denise absently picked up my glass of milk and took a sip from it. "What do you mean? How was it implied?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I tell him I like him and he responds by saying that he's got a girlfriend…it's assumed that he's not interested…I mean, he could've broken up with Madeline if he was interested in me…right?"

"Right…" Denise said warily. "But…"

"What?"

Denise shrugged. "I don't know. I mean…I don't want to get your hopes up because I could be wrong…but…I don't know. It just seems weird that he didn't say directly that he didn't like you. Usually if you aren't interested in someone, you want to make it clear to them that you're not interested because you don't want to lead them on."

The eggs suddenly felt very dry in my mouth as I began to mentally replay my entire conversation with Oliver. No, he never really came out and said he didn't like me…so was he just playing with his words, dancing around the subject of his actual feelings? But this is Oliver…he's always seemed so straightforward. He doesn't seem like the type of person to hide that kind of information just because…well…why would he? I can't think of any reason why he would want to hide the fact that he liked me, if he did like me…

"Maybe he just didn't want to hurt my feelings by coming out and directly and saying he didn't like me." I finally said.

Denise nodded slowly. "Maybe."

I shook my head. "Never mind…let's forget it. I've been thinking about Oliver for almost twenty four hours now or something, and I'm tired of him."

"But"—

"Seriously. Forget about him…I don't want to talk about him anymore. Tell me about your date!" I said quickly.

"But"—

"How'd it go? Are you guys going to see each other again?"

Denise sighed as she dropped her head, staring at the floor. After a moment though, she looked up and smiled at me. "It was perfect."

I grinned, though in the back of my mind I couldn't help but feel that guilty tug of my conscience, reminding me of the previous night's annoyance with Denise's good fortune.

"Yeah? Was he everything we thought he'd be?" I asked with a wink.

Denise rolled her eyes, but was still smiling. "He was! He was sweet and gentleman-like…took me to Madam Pudifoot's, which we both hated, by the way. But we just walked around a lot, went shopping and talked. It was wonderful…"

I clapped my hands together and scrunched up my face like a five year old ready to go inside a candy store. I've never seen Denise so happy before, it's rather cute! I told her so, and she made a face at me, though she was blushing profusely.

"So, I'm assuming you're going to see each other again…when we're in Hogsmeade again?" I asked.

Denise grinned. "Well, we talked about it, but he said that our next Hogsmeade trip seemed like too long of a wait…so he asked me if he could see me at the next Quidditch match here…the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game next week. He said some of his friends are on the Ravenclaw team and he thought he'd come and root for them."

"Aww…that's sweet!"

"Suzie, I'm so happy…" Denise said with a sigh. God, she's so sappy, I just want to pinch her cheeks. So I did. She slapped my hands away and threatened to tell Vince that I was set on breaking up his father's marriage in order to keep Mr. Macmillan for myself.

"Ooh…did he mention his dad?" I asked. "Does he _know_ just how sexy his father is?"

Denise rolled her eyes again as she got up from my bed and went to her own bed to make it. "He didn't mention his father…well, just once…briefly. He was telling me that everyone on his father's side of their family had been Ravenclaws, and how his father had been upset when Ernie was made a Hufflepuff…but his mum was a Hufflepuff so she was excited…er…but that's it. Sorry…" She said, smiling helplessly at me. "Oh! That reminds me, speaking of Ravenclaws…"

"You and Vince are going to get Ravenclaw foam fingers for the quidditch match?"

Denise cocked an eyebrow at me. "We have those here?"

I giggled. "I don't think so…but we should. They look so cool!"

"Listen, I'm such an idiot. I completely forgot," Denise started again, "I ran into Roger Davies this morning at breakfast…he was looking for you."

"Roger Davies? Oh, that…sixth year guy?" I asked.

"Yeah!" Denise replied exasperatedly. "You know him…he's the Raveclaw chaser..."

I nodded. "Oh, right…yeah. I remember now."

Denise rolled her eyes at me. "How can you not? He's one of the most popular guys in school…don't know why, he seems like such an idiot. Anyway, he asked me to tell you he was looking for you."

"Was that it? Did he say what it was about?" I asked, wondering what on earth Roger Davies wanted with me. I think the only time I've ever spoken to him was at the first and last dueling club meeting we had last year. He had been standing next to me, and we had shared a laugh and a few good jokes when Snape had flipped Lockhart over, but Davies had suddenly become interested in talking to Alicia Spinnet, who was also standing nearby, when I offhandedly mentioned that I loved watching Snape effortlessly kick Lockhart's butt and that it was kind of hot…

"He just said he was looking for you, that's it…" Denise said. "On my way up here though, I saw him heading outside…I think he and his friends were going to go play in the snow or something. So immature…"

I laughed and got up to get dressed. Yes, highly immature. I wonder if I can coax Denise into making a snowman with me later on today. A few minutes later I was heading towards the door, pulling on my coat and engaging Denise in one final plea to join me outside for an afternoon of winterish frivolity.

"Only if you promise not to triple team me with Fred and George Weasley!" she called after me when I asked her to help me chuck snowballs at Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater if they were outside. Percy is so much fun to irritate. Penelope's nice though, and fortunately she's a good sport about getting hit by snowballs. She actually has exceptional aim, and throws much better then Percy…

"Fine! I have a better idea," I replied as I headed out the door, "you and I can build a snow fort and battle the twins together. We can try and recruit Percy and Penelope on our side, though God knows Percy won't be any help since he throws like a girl…"

"Fine, I'll meet you outside in a bit!" Denise replied. I shut the door behind me and hurried through the common room and out into the corridor, letting my mind wander back to the subject of Oliver as I headed up the stairs. Could it be possible that Oliver actually liked me but simply couldn't say it because he was already in a relationship with someone else? But that didn't make sense…if he was interested enough in me, he wouldn't care that he was already seeing someone. But then again, what do I know? I've never had anyone tell me they like me while I was in a relationship with someone else, so I suppose I couldn't really say.

I was still thinking of him when I came outside, now feeling a mix of anxiousness and annoyance. Oliver told me once and for all that "we are where we are" and that he was with Madeline, implying that I couldn't be with him. But he didn't say anything about whether or not he'd _like_ to be with me…I guess it's implied, but I don't know for sure…and this is going to be weighing me down now. Why couldn't he have been clearer about this? Or why did Denise and I have to parse for subtext and try to find loopholes in his words? If I can't be with him, I need closure on this…I want to be 100 sure I can't be with him before I move on…

I scanned the courtyard, looking for Roger Davies. I saw Madeline and Oliver walking together outside. The former was talking rather animatedly and giggling like your average bimbo. Oliver simply smiled and nodded as they continued to walk. Suddenly though, a shower of snowballs came rushing at them. Eyes widening slightly at the scene (if only words could convey how Madeline shrieked…oh wait, hold on: piggish, squeaky, shrill, my poor ears…) I glanced around to see which wonderful soul was responsible for this attack, and saw Fred and George waving at Madeline and Oliver, grinning from ear to ear.

"Sorry about that, captain!" one of them called at the couple, though he didn't look terribly sorry. He was actually chuckling and getting another snowball ready to throw.

Oliver laughed in response as he helped brush the snow off of Madeline, who was pouting angrily at him for not being more enraged. "Think I was born yesterday to believe in an apology made by George Weasley?" he yelled back.

Just then, the other twin—Fred, I think—threw another particularly large snowball, hitting Oliver. He must've used magic to hurl it, as Oliver was knocked down by the force of it. I couldn't help but grin at the sight. He was covered in snow, and Madeline was glaring at the Weasley twins as she tried to pull Oliver up. But he didn't seem to need any help. He hopped right up, grabbing a heap of snow in his arms as he did so and fashioning it into a ball.

"You little red-headed bastards!" Oliver shouted as he chucked the snowball, hitting one of the twins square in the face. The other twin, along with Oliver, fell into laughter. Ok, I know I need to stop thinking of Oliver in inappropriate ways, but _God_, can he throw. He's so damn burly. I think I'm going to swoon…

"Ow!" I squealed as I felt something cold hit my butt. I turned around and saw a boy about my age, or a little younger, waving and laughing at me. I couldn't remember his name, but I knew he was a Ravenclaw, and when I stopped to think about it, remembered seeing him with Roger Davies numerous times…they must be friends.

"Sorry about that!"

And I was right. Roger Davies appeared out of nowhere, pushing the boy who had hit me, though they were both laughing.

"Winston's got horrible aim," Roger said as he drew closer to me. "I'd wipe the snow off of you, but I don't want you to think I'm sexually harassing you or anything." He said, grinning.

I could feel myself blush, remembering that my ass was covered in snow. "Good man, Roger." I said with a laugh as I reached back and brushed the snow off my rear.

"So…er…have you got a second?" he asked me as I wiped my hands briskly against each other in attempts to get the excess snow of my hands.

"Oh, yeah! I'm meeting Denise out here, but she told me you were looking for me…your timing's perfect. What's up?" I asked.

"Well…um…I saw you yesterday at Isabella's in Hogsmeade…with that one Mediterranean-looking bloke?"

I frowned. I didn't see him there. At least I don't remember seeing him…but then again, I was nervous as hell that morning, so I probably wouldn't have even noticed if Oliver was dancing naked in front of me. Ok, admittedly I'd notice _that_, but that's besides the point…

"Yeah…I was there, I had a job interview." I replied, wondering what the hell he cared about me being at Isabella's Coffee Company. "I'm sorry, I didn't notice you were there…"

Roger waved his hand dismissively, laughing. "No, it's alright. I just noticed…well, you had coffee there?"

"Er…yeah." I said, now wondering if Roger was mentally unstable or something. I mean, he's a quidditch captain and all…and they've got a bad track record in the sanity department…

He smiled. "Oh, good. Ok, I'm glad we have that established."

"Great. I am too."

"So…I like coffee too…and well, I mean, if we both like it," Roger said slowly, "maybe…I don't know…we could maybe, possibly go out for some coffee some time."

I felt my eyes widen slightly. "Er…together?"

He laughed. "That was sort of the idea. I mean hell, our next Hogsmeade visit is on Valentine's day, so maybe we could really go to town and get lunch too, make a lunch date out of it…"

"Oh…"

"So…" Roger had drawn himself a bit closer to me and was smiling, looking at me expectantly. "What do you say? Would you like to go out with me?"


	13. Luscious Lucius

_A/N: Geez. This story was supposed to end by chapter ten! And the ending scene of this chapter was supposed to happen in the previous chapter…but I really like to ramble, so obviously…the end of this story seems to be getting farther and farther away from me. Ok, so I want to say here that I firmly believe that only 3-4 chapters remain now, plus an epilogue…I think._

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Chapter Thirteen: Luscious Lucius

* * *

"So…" Roger had drawn himself a bit closer to me and was smiling, looking at me expectantly. "What do you say? Would you like to go out with me?"

I stared at him. Did Roger Davies, captain of the Ravenclaw quidditch team, just ask me out on a date? Is he serious?

"Er…"

Roger laughed, drawing even closer so were only a few inches away from each other. "Come on. Go out with me. The worst that can happen is you won't have a good time and you'll have wasted a few hours."

I'm not really sure how I feel about this. Well, I'm certainly surprised. I never would've seen this coming. But Roger Davies? He's like, a few years younger than me! I don't go for younger guys. But then again, this is Roger Davies. Now, he's no Mr. Macmillan, but he is rather easy on the eyes. Mmm. And he has nice, floppy hair. I just _love_ a boy with floppy hair…

Ok. Cute hair aside, he's still younger. And…I don't even know him. I've never even thought about him as dateable material or in any other way that comes close to being…er...carnal. But he's quite cute! And his smile isn't half bad either! But ok. Must focus on the less superficial and more important aspects here…

"I'm really flattered that you thought to ask me out, Roger." I said finally, smiling at him. This is somewhat unnerving. He's younger than me, yet he's practically towering over me. "I just don't think I can though."

Roger inhaled slightly, shifting his gaze down to the small amount of space between us.

"Er…I'm sorry, really." I said quickly. Oh gosh. I hope I didn't hurt his feelings. Honestly though, he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who gets hurt easily by being turned down. I mean, from what I remember of him, he's a big dater, and is probably used to getting turned down occasionally. I expect he'll be moving on to another girl in a matter of minutes…

Roger shrugged and looked up at me, smiling. "No, it's alright. Um…are you sure though? Sure you won't change your mind?"

I smiled. "Yeah…I'm sure. Thanks."

God. I feel so stupid…saying thanks. Thanking him for being considerate after I've turned him down? Oh well. I suppose there isn't any non-awkward way of rejecting someone.

"Right…well, ok. I'm glad I asked though." Roger said. "Anyway…um…I've got to go now….my team's got quidditch practice in a little bit. We've got that match coming up against Gryffindor."

I nodded and grinned, imagining the two quidditch captains, Roger and Oliver, facing off. "Right. Well, I'm totally rooting for you guys."

Roger smiled. "Great. Spread the cheer amongst the other Hufflepuffs then, will you? Ravenclaw could use the extra support."

"Sure. Well, I'll see you later then, Roger."

He bobbed his head a little and smiled, and then walked away.

Ok. So these past few months, I was seriously beginning to believe that the day a man would ask me out would never come. And it finally came. I got asked out, and by a cute, popular guy at that. Granted, I turned him down because—no offense to Roger—I wasn't interested at all, but that's beside the point. The point is I, Suzanne Catherine Hennessy, was asked out on a date. I am _dateable_. Make way, world. I am _sexy_. I think.

* * *

By the time Denise had come out to join me outside, I was already hiding inside my snow-fort from the likes of Fred and George Weasley. Their younger brother Ron had joined me for a few minutes to take cover when the twins had rounded on him, but I kicked him out when he started whining about how his brothers showed no emotional support for him when his pet rat was killed the other day by Hermione Granger's funky looking cat. I told him to find a hobby and threw him out, leaving him at the mercy of Fred and George. A little mean? I know, but Ron's very whiny and dramatic at times and it can be rather annoying, as adorable as he may appear on the surface on most other occasions.

"Suzie!" Denise called after me as she hurried across the courtyard to meet me. "Hey, sorry I took so long! Did you talk to—AH! Fred you IMBECILE!"

I sniggered as I watched Denise hastily brush off the excess snow that had just hit her. "Sorry, love!" Fred called after her as she hastened to join me. He hardly looked sorry though, as he was rolling up another snowball and wiggling his eyebrows at his twin. Why do I have a feeling that my little fort isn't going to provide much protection for long?

"So!" Denise breathed as she crawled in next to me. "Were you able to catch Roger? I just saw him a second ago when I came out here."

I sighed, peeking over our little wall to see where Fred and George had gone off to. I grinned. Oliver and Madeline were still outside, and the twins seemed to have taken the latter hostage. One of the twins was holding her by the wrists while the other one was holding a snowball the size of a quaffle and grinning knowingly at Oliver.

"Yep, I saw him." I replied, still watching the hostage situation. ("If you don't move quidditch practice to _after_ dawn, your girlfriend's getting it!" the twin with the snowball shouted at Oliver.)

"_And_? What did he want?" Denise asked, grabbing a hold of my arm and pulling hard on it in attempts to avert my gaze. I finally looked away from the twins and faced her.

"Well…" I began with a smirk, trying to sound as cocky as possible, "Roger asked me out."

Denise's mouth fell open and twisted into a smile at the same time. "Seriously?" she asked with a giggle

I nodded, now grinning from ear to ear. I can't help it. It's nice to be liked for a change. "Yep. I said no though."

"What? _Why_?" Denise asked, frowning. "He's cute!"

I rolled my eyes at her. "Back in our room a few minutes you were saying he was an idiot!"

"Oh!" Denise said. "Huh. Well…I didn't really mean it! I mean, he's a nice guy…and he can't be that big of an idiot if he likes you. He deserves credit for that."

I laughed. "You're sweet."

"Wait! Did you say no because of what I said?" Denise asked apprehensively. "Oh, I'm horrible! I never should've said that about him! I didn't think you'd "—

"Relax, Denise." I cut in. "It has nothing to do with what you said. I thought about saying yes, but…I don't know. I'm not really interested in him. I mean, there's the age matter…"

"Says the girl who lusts after every other middle aged wizard she sees…" Denise muttered.

I laughed again. "I mean he's younger than me! You know I'm not into pedophilic-type relationships. And I don't know, I've never considered him before. Hell, I've never even thought of him like_ that_ before, you know?

Denise nodded. "Yeah, I guess that's understandable. But still…that's so cool! You got asked out!"

"I know!"

"And by a very popular guy at that!" Denise added with a smirk.

I grinned and stuck my tongue out at her. "I know! I feel so hot!"

"Oh ho! Didn't know we were interrupting something here!"

I nearly jumped at the voice. Denise and I glanced up, only to find Fred and George towering over us as they juggled several large snowballs in their arms.

"We had no idea you two were an item!" one of the twins said cheerily.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked.

The other twin sniggered. "Just heard you saying you felt hot! The lovely Denise is here with you, so one may only assume that she is responsible for your newfound hotness."

"Shut your mouth, George." Denise snapped, glaring at him.

The other twin, Fred, laughed. "You really don't want to get hot and heavy out here though. Aside from that just being a rather disgusting level of public display of affections, your snow fort would probably melt from the heat. I'd advise you to get a room. There's a lovely and spacious broom cupboard on the third floor near Filch's office, but the downside is he'd probably hear everything—ow!"

I had chucked a snowball at Fred to shut him up, and he did, with an added benefit…

"Oops! Dropped your balls!" I laughed when Fred dropped his snowballs in surprise at being hit. To my surprise, Denise laughed with me; but our glorious moment was short-lived. George decided to avenge his brother by hurling all of his snowballs at us one after another. Fred had recovered quickly enough and joined his brother in the fray, and within a few moments, my beautiful snow fort was in shambles.

"Take _that,_ you perverted Hufflepuff!" Fred shouted as he flung another snowball at Denise and me as we ran for it. It hit my butt. What the hell is up with the snowballs of the world hitting my ass today? I kept running with Denise, ignoring the sound of Fred and George roaring with laughter.

"So immature!" Denise huffed as we hurried inside and fell against the wall for support.

I laughed as I fell against the wall next to Denise. "Yes, quite. Who do they think they are, trying to engage two mature young ladies like ourselves in a snowball fight?"

Denise rolled her eyes and smiled. "You know, if you pretend to be full of it long enough, you might actually become full of it."

"Never. No matter how much I jest, I will always be as stupid and immature as the next person." I replied.

"Maybe slightly more immature than the next person."

I nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, probably."

We rested against the wall in silence for a few moments, taking in the scene from our indoor spot. The door had been propped open so students could go in and out more easily, so we had a nice view. Fred and George had disappeared from our range of vision, but I could hear the sound of Angelina Johnson shrieking ("You jackasses! You got snow in my eyes!"); and my guess was that it had been in result of something the Weasley twins had done.

A group of third year Slytherins passed by us to go outside, and they were sniggering.

"I guess they don't pay teachers enough here or something…otherwise he'd be able to afford a couple new sets of robes or something." A blonde Slytherin said. He seemed to be the leader of the pack. Drawing a blank on his name…Malfoy's son, I think. I'm sure of it, actually. He's got the nose. Lucius Malfoy has such a sexy nose. It's not too big, and not too small. And it doesn't scrunch up and get all nasty when he scowls like it does with most people. And his hair. Sigh. I wouldn't know where to begin with his hair…it's just so gorgeous! I wonder what hair care products he uses to get that nice shine; I swear it's like a supermodel's hair. I don't know why he works for the ministry of magic. He belongs on the cover of some dirty romance novel…you know, topless, staring passionately into the eyes of some pretty woman. Mmm. I miss Lucius Malfoy. I mean, I know he's rather snobby, and my dad told me that back during the war he was suspected of working for You-Know-Who…but still. He's so hot! And I miss seeing him. See, every year the ministry has Christmas parties for its employees and their families, so every year I always got to see Luscious Lucius…but he didn't show up at the one I went to a couple of months ago during holiday, and I was completely disheartened. Oh well. On the plus side, I did get to see that gorgeous black worker with the hoop earring. I never got to learn his name, but I did learn that he was an auror in charge of the hunt for Sirius Black. Sigh. So brave. I had a dream that same night that Black was after me, and the sexy auror guy came and rescued me. Oh! If worst comes to worst and I can't find a job, I'm going to get my dad to find me an internship at the ministry! Not only would I be able to learn the name of the sexy auror guy, but I would also probably get to see more of Mr. Malfoy!

Denise nudged me in the ribs, pulling me out of fantasyland. I glanced questioningly at her and saw that she was jabbing her thumb in the direction of the Slytherin boys who had just gone outside.

"What?" I asked, still thinking of Lucius Malfoy and wondering if I was too old for those "bring your children to work" days they had at the ministry, and if my dad would let me tag along with him one day if did end up working for some newspaper or magazine. I could pretend to be looking for a new career…

She raised her eyebrows at me. "Did you not hear them?" she asked.

I thought back. They were talking about the low wages teachers receive. So what? Were they part of a union or something? Aw, they care labor laws; that's so sweet! I mentioned this to Denise and she merely rolled her eyes at me. I can't believe my appreciation for little children's concern with the financial welfare of professors at our school is getting me an eye rolling!

"The other part! They were making fun of the state of some professor's robes." Denise hissed. "Three guesses who they were talking about."

My jaw dropped. Oh, that's right! I did hear something about that. My God, I'm thick. And appalled! Were they talking about Lupin? _My_ Lupin? Hmm…maybe Hagrid, but then again, he's always dressed the way he has, even before he became a professor…

"Were they talking about…"

Denise nodded, frowning. Those little brats!

"I can't believe that!" I said angrily. "Little punks! Talking about him like that. Talking about sweet, wonderful_, sexy_, intelligent—oh! Professor Lupin!"

Professor Lupin had just appeared in the corridor and was walking towards us, in the direction of the courtyard. Oh God. How much did he hear? Hopefully nothing about those kids and what they said; hopefully not my calling him sexy…or if he did I hope he didn't know I was talking about him. Oh hell. If he heard, he probably assumed it was about him. After all, he knows I like him. He knows that I think he's too sexy for his shirt…

"Hello girls." He said with a smile. "Had enough of the snow, did you?"

Denise grinned. "No, not really. We just had enough of Fred and George."

Professor Lupin laughed. I smiled and nodded, trying to look amused. Oh this is so pathetic. I should _not_ be burning with jealousy just because Denise made Professor Lupin laugh. I've made him laugh too before! Countless times. Well, a few times anyway.

"I'm actually on my way out to look for them." Lupin said, leaning forward a little to get a better look at the courtyard to see if the twins could be spotted. "I found a bunch of loose Cornish pixies flying about excitedly in one of the bathrooms, and I have the sneaking suspicion that they might be responsible for it."

"They're probably still out there somewhere, ambushing some unsuspecting, innocent victim with giant snowballs." I said, suddenly conscious of how wet my butt was from all the abuse it took outside.

Lupin smiled as he glanced me over. "And judging by the state of your clothes, my guess is that you were one of the victims."

I nodded, and prayed that I wasn't blushing. Why did he have to look me over? I mean, I know it was probably in the most innocent, nonsexual way a person could be looked over, but still. The idea of Professor Lupin looking at me in any way is enough to make my insides go fluttery.

"Well, I should go find them." Lupin said as he moved towards the door. "I'll see you two later."

"Ok. Bye!" I said. A little too perkily. What the hell is wrong with my voice? I said bye like a squeaky little elf! Professor Lupin glanced over his shoulder and cocked an eyebrow at me and smiled slightly before continuing on his way. Great. He thinks I'm an idiot. Well, I suppose I _am_ one, but now it's out in the open for Lupin to see. Oh hell, who am I kidding? He probably already knew that.

Denise grinned. "Bye Professor. Just be care"—

A giant snowball, the size of several quaffles, hit Professor Lupin in the head, knocking him down.

"ful…" Denise finished pathetically.

We rushed outside to see who had done it, but even before we could reach the doors, I heard a couple pairs of feet hurrying over, and by the time we got outside, Fred and George were already by Lupin's side, helping him up.

"We—are—so—sorry." One of the twins said through his laughter as he brushed snow off Professor Lupin.

The other twin had pulled out his wand, probably to dry him off. "Yeah, we thought you were Suzie and Denise! We heard their voices!"

Professor Lupin smiled slightly as he got up and steadied himself. "It's fine. Go. Enjoy the snow while you can."

The twins frowned and glanced at each other confusedly before turning back to face Lupin. "Seriously?" they asked together.

Lupin brushed his sleeves, and still smiling, he nodded. "Of course I'm serious. After today, you'll be spending most of your afternoons in detention with me. By the time you two are done serving them, there's a good chance all the snow will have melted for good."

I grinned as I watched Fred and George bow to Lupin and call him a good man before hurrying off to do as much winterish damage as possible before their detentions set in. I glanced sideways at Denise, who was shaking her head.

"The gall of those two…" she said.

I laughed. "I can't believe Lupin didn't blow up at them for knocking him down with an oversized snowball. But I suppose he's just nice like that, huh?"

I glanced at Denise, half expecting her to agree, but she didn't say anything. She was grinning at me.

"What?"

She laughed. "Yes he is," she said in a high pitched voice as she batted her lashes at me. Hmph. Horrific imitations of me coming right up.

"Don't even start!" I said, feeling myself blush. But she started, and with a sigh at that.

"Professor Lupin's so dreamy!" she said in a high pitched, girly voice. "He's sweet, and smart, and _so _wonderful!"

I stuck my tongue out at her and grinned. "I'll tell him you said that."

She made a face at me and laughed. "You were blushing like crazy when he came and talked to us!"

I bit down on my lip. Oh great. If Little Miss Impressionist here noticed my blushing, then Professor Lupin probably did too. Oh, hot damn. I've never been so thrilled…

Sensing my embarrassment, Denise giggled and gave me a hug. "Don't worry. He just got hit by a giant snowball. I'm sure his mind is more occupied with what he should have Fred and George do during detention." She said as she pulled me along the corridor towards the Great Hall.

My stomach rumbled a little, and I knew it was time for lunch. I certainly hope his mind was occupied with Fred, George and detention rather than me. I mean, I just blushed, right? That's nothing big. I mean, guys are supposed to be stupid; they never notice anything. Hell, look at Oliver. The idiot never even picked up on the fact that I fancied him. He usually never even picked up on all the dirty Wood puns I made when he used to tutor me! But then again, maybe that's just Oliver. Maybe just Oliver-type guys are dumb. Lupin's…well, Lupin is Lupin. He's probably a bit more astute than Oliver since he's not obsessed with quidditch and would probably know when he's being hit on. Except I wasn't hitting on him; I just blushed in his presence. But same thing in his mind, I suppose. Blushing in front of him is probably as good as flirting with him, considering both actions emphasize my liking him. God, I can't stand this, feeling like an idiot every time I see Lupin. I wish he never caught on to my liking him. I wish I was less obvious about my stupid feelings. If I could just get him to think that I don't like him or something, perhaps things would be ok, and I wouldn't feel as awkward around him. Ok. So I've _always_ been a little awkward around him. Fine…_Less_ awkward around him than I am right now. Not a particularly ambitious goal, but certainly achievable. Oh, I'm such a moron! Why didn't I think to do this earlier? Make Lupin think that I don't like him anymore…this is great! Honestly, how do I not fall down more often?

* * *

The next morning I hurried into the Great Hall, determined to make it in time for breakfast…and determined to sneak some food into my bag to take with me outside, because—that's right. Ladies and gentlemen, owls and toads, today is quidditch day! Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw. Now in all honesty, I don't really give a damn about who actually wins. But here's the thing: All of the sexy quidditch players of Hogwarts belong to these two teams. And yes, I know a certain friend of mine who I'm supposed to be getting over happens to be the captain of one of the teams, and also happens to be the sexiest of them all, but that doesn't matter. I'm not going to pine over Oliver Wood. I'm just going for the prospect of seeing him on a broom, that's all. I mean, seriously…even if I were madly in love with someone else—and hell—happily married, I would still come out to watch Oliver Wood ride a broom. He just does it so nice; the way he always manages to block quaffles from entering the hoops he's guarding, oftentimes flipping midair and using the bristled end of his broom to whack the quaffle back onto the pitch. He just does it with so much force and authority it makes me think about other possible uses of brooms, besides flying and sweeping…

I sighed at the thought of Oliver blocking quaffles, and floated towards the Hufflupuff table, hazily looking around for Denise. I found Denise quickly enough, but saw that she was packing her things and getting ready to leave. I snapped out my adulterated reverie. No! Don't leave me, Denise! I can't be the loser who eats her breakfast alone!

"You're late!" she exclaimed when she saw me racing towards our table. "The match starts in a bit, and I have to go meet Vince outside, remember?"

I pouted. "But I'm hungry! Wait with me…Eat with me!"

Denise rolled her eyes. "I've already eaten. Just grab something and eat it on the way out. But be quick because I want to introduce you to Vince when we get outside and I really don't think you should have your mouth full of breakfast when you meet him. It's not very endearing."

I grinned as I grabbed a plate of assorted muffins and cookies and dumped everything into my bag, only to receive an amused look from Denise. "You're going to let me meet him?"

"Yes, but"—

"Oh, this is so exciting!" I squealed. I wonder if he's close to his mum…maybe he wouldn't care if she became estranged from their family, and…

"But no asking questions about his father!" Denise warned me. "Come along. Oh, and how much room do you have in that bag? There are some pastries over there near Madeline's spot…see if you can sneak a few in there for all of us."

My mouth fell open and I smiled. "All of us?"

"Yes! You, me and Vince!"

"Aw! I can sit with you guys?" I asked as I leaned forward for the plate of pastries, receiving a glare from Madeline as I did so. "I thought you guys wanted to be alone or something…"

Denise laughed. "If we wanted to be alone, we wouldn't be hooking up at a quidditch match. Of course you're sitting with us!"

With my bag stuffed with treats for the three of us to share, Denise and I headed outside. For February weather, it was very nice outside. It was fairly cool and breezy, but the sky was clear and the sun was shining. Perfect weather to watch quidditch players in action. Er…playing, of course.

"So, who are you going to root for?" Denise asked as we made it out to the quidditch pitch. She was glancing around everywhere, looking for Vince.

"Don't care too much." I replied, wondering if it was true that Oliver really threw up before every game in the changing rooms. At least that's what Fred told me last year…

Denise turned to look at me, raising her eyebrows skeptically as she did so. "You mean you don't care if Roger _Davies's_ team wins or loses?" she asked, wiggling her eyebrows at me, startling me a bit.

"Oh!"

For a moment, I had forgotten that Roger was captain of the Ravenclaw team and would in fact be playing today. How had that not occurred to me? Wait…why did it matter? I _did_ tell Denise I said no to Roger, didn't I? I asked her if I had remembered to tell her about my turning down Roger and she simply laughed at me.

"I know that, silly." She replied. "But I don't know…I just think you two would be cute together."

I rolled my eyes at her. "Well, even if I suddenly decided that I was in love with Roger, I think it's a little too late to say yes to him…unless of course I get a time turner, but that's such a hassle and I'm not sure he's worth it, you know?"

"Of course." Denise replied. "But your rejecting him doesn't have anything to do with your fancying another quidditch player out here, does it?"

"No! Of course not! I told you everything, Denise. Oliver and I are friends now, and that's that. I'm over him, or…getting over him, at least. No big deal." I replied, averting my gaze from Denise. And as I did so, my eyes fell on the Vince Macmillan. Gosh, he looks just like the sexy Mr. Macmillan, only twenty years younger. He was amongst the crowd of other visitors who were coming for the game, and was looking around the place like he was lost. "Oi, your boyfriend's here!"

"Where?" Denise asked excitedly. I giggled at the eagerness in her voice, and she turned to frown at me. "Where do you see him?" she asked in a calmer voice.

"Over there! HEY VINCE!" I shouted, waving my arms manically at him to get his attention, much to Denise's dismay ("Suzie! What are you doing?" she squealed as she hit me on the arm).

Vince finally turned around, and looked at me confusedly, understandably of course. I suppose I would be a bit afraid if some random guy I didn't know started waving and screaming at me. Fortunately though, Vince seemed to have spotted Denise standing with me, as he grinned and began to make his way towards us.

"Denise, hi!" he said as he joined us. Denise said hello back and I bit down on my lip to keep from laughing when she began to blush. He leaned forward, looking like was about to kiss her, so I turned away a little, certain that Denise would beat me up later on for not averting my gaze.

"Oh, Vince! This is Suzie, by the way!" she said quickly, pushing Vince away a little. I faced them again and grinned. "Suzie, this is Vince!"

"Yes, I know!" I replied as I shook Vince's hand.

He laughed. "Right. And judging by your calling out my name a few seconds ago, I'm assuming Denise has already mentioned me a few times."

"Oh ho—yeah, she did! She—ow!"

Denise had slapped me on the arm and after giving me a warning look (to which I responded with a giggle), she smiled at Vince. "Mentioning you was exactly what I did. Just mentioned…that's all!"

Vince cocked an eyebrow at Denise. Ooh, he does that sexily. Not as sexily as Oliver though, of course. Er…not that I think about Oliver like that anymore. Just a passive observation was what that was, really…

"Right. Well, Denise has told me quite a bit about you." Vince said simply as he took Denise's hand and began leading us towards the quidditch stands.

I gasped and nudged Denise in the ribs. "What did you tell him?"

Denise smiled. "Nothing! I just said you were my best friend and really funny, that's all!"

"Uh huh. I don't believe you."

Denise rolled her eyes. "I also said you were rather difficult at times."

"You mean _incorrigible_?" I corrected her with a wink.

"So!" Denise started, smiling at me as she changed the subject, "lovely quidditch weather, huh?"

"Excellent." Vince agreed. "So are either of you rooting for a particular team? Since you're both Hufflepuffs…"

Denise and I shrugged at the same time, and Vince laughed. "Alright then," he said, "I say we all support Ravenclaw. It was my house, you know."

"Sure, whatever you want…" Denise replied. "Though I have to say, I'm not really a big fan of that one beater of theirs. Mark Walters…he's a bit snobby."

I made a face, remembering Mark Walters. He was a few years below us and probably one of the most obnoxious, stuck up little prats I had ever met. He was so full of it.

"Oh yeah, he is annoying, isn't he?" I said. "Hey, maybe we should go for Gryffindor instead…"

Denise nodded thoughtfully while Vince objected with his defense that people just tended to be jealous of Ravenclaws because they were just so damn smart. "You know, you're kind of right," Denise said, ignoring Vince, "Ravenclaws are a bit full of it. Even the nicest ones…they tend to think that they've got brains and that's all that matters."

"Yeah! And they always look down on us because we're Hufflepuffs…you know, since we're obviously not known for our wit, or for being cunning or super brave, they automatically assume we're useless or something. Those jerks!" I said loudly, sticking my tongue out at Vince, who rolled his eyes and sighed with defeat.

Denise grinned. "Gryffindor students are much nicer, aren't they? They don't seem to be as egotistical. Alright, let's root for them then."

"I can't believe you two are siding with Gryffindor…and that you dislike Ravenclaw so much." Vince said dismally.

"I can't believe you're taking us seriously…" I replied, grinning at Denise. She smiled back, though I doubt it was because of what I said, as Vince had just put an arm around her at the same time. A part of me is extremely in awe at how cute they look together. But another part of me is feeling slightly awkward. It's been a long time since Denise has had a boyfriend, and the last one she had was Alex Mills a few years ago…but it hadn't been awkward to be around him because I already knew him and we were good friends. I didn't really know Vince though, and seeing them acting all…intimate…made me feel a little weird. Huh. Intimate. Could I be a bigger prude? I guess it's because Denise is almost like a sister to me. I only have one sister, but I don't see her much anymore since she got married a few years ago, and Denise has kind of replaced her in a sense. It's just a bit weird seeing people you consider family getting it on with someone else. Ok. I know Denise and Vince weren't "getting it on" and they probably never will in front of me because Denise is proper like that, but still. The mere idea of it kind of irks me.

I grinned happily as we took our seats. Front row seats, that is. This is the only way to watch quidditch. I hate watching from the back mainly because I always get stuck behind some really tall person and can never see a thing. Conveniently though, there were three open seats in the very front row for us. I passed my bag of food to Denise so she and Vince could dig in while I began to work on my breakfast muffin. I glanced at Denise, and realized she was looking at me exasperatedly.

"What?"

"Those poor kids are going to be scarred." Denise simply said as she took the bag and offered Vince a pumpkin pasty.

I rolled my eyes at her as I bit into my chocolate muffin. "Whatever. All I did was politely asked that boy and his friends to just move a little so we could get through."

"You told them to scoot their asses over because these seats were yours!"

"I think you need to clean your ears, Denise," I said with a small smile, "I said butts, not asses."

Denise sighed resignedly as she turned her attention to the quidditch pitch, where the Raveclaw team had just flown onto, followed by the Gryffindor team. I watched as Roger and Oliver shook hands on the ground and couldn't help but smile. Oliver looked rather solemn and stiff, while Roger by contrast looked completely relaxed and cheery.

The players began to take their positions in the air, and I felt a small rush of excitement fill my stomach as everyone in the crowd began to cheer. Oliver had begun making his way to the hoops, and had flown near our seats while doing so. He looked up briefly, vaguely scanning the crowds, and our eyes met. My heart practically leapt out of my chest. He spotted me. Oh. Joy. Involuntarily, I grinned and waved at him. Stupid, I know. In this large sea of people, I'm pretty sure—Oh hell! He waved back! Mind you, it was only for a second before he continued flying upward to guard the hoops…but still! He singled me out in the crowd and waved to me! I know—he probably just did it because I waved first and because he sees me as a friend and whatnot, but still. I feel so special! This indeed has been a very wonderful moment.

* * *

Ok, so…moment gone. With the exception of spotting Professor Lupin in the crowd (I couldn't help but stare at him until he looked my way, at which point I quickly turned away and decided to refrain from looking at him since, out of embarrassment) and hearing Oliver shouting at Harry Potter to stop being a gentleman and to knock the Ravenclaw seeker off her broom about five seconds ago ("Someone needs to knock that tosser off _his_ broom!" Vince said irritably to Denise, jabbing a thumb in Oliver's direction), this game is boring. I mean, there have been some impressive moves here and there, and everyone's been riding their brooms very sexily and whatnot, but I don't know…I guess my heart's not in it. My mind keeps going back to Oliver waving at me. I know it was a small thing and he probably didn't mean anything by it, but that's exactly what's got my mind occupied in a sort of manic-depressed way. I get excited as I relive that brief moment of him noticing me and waving at me, and become optimistic because Madeline's sitting on the other end of the pitch and he didn't wave to _her_. But then I remind myself that I wave to Cedric Diggory whenever I see him in the corridors, and that certainly doesn't mean I want to get into his pants. And then I remind myself that Oliver chose Madeline and not me, and that's when I feel like I've hit rock bottom. But then I go back and think of all the interactions I've ever had with Oliver and begin parsing them for subliminal implications…it's really a vicious cycle.

I could no longer see Cho or Harry; they had flown up too high in search of the snitch, so instead I let my eyes wonder all around me. I glanced sideways at Denise and Vince, who had their eyes glued to Roger Davies and Alicia Spinnet, who were currently battling for the quaffle. I looked up again and saw that Cho and Harry had reappeared, though they were still too high up in the sky to make out clearly. Harry was racing towards our end of the pitch, and Cho was tailing him. My only guess is that they found the snitch.

Suddenly, I heard a shriek from behind me. Vince, Denise and I, as well as everyone in the vicinity, turned around and found Hannah Abbott, a third year in our house, pointing downward. I leaned forward and gasped. There was a pair of dementors gliding across the grass, pointing up at Harry. Except…they were exactly gliding…

"Expecto Patronum!"

I barely heard it over the shouting and cheering, but I looked up just in time to see a jet of light shoot out of Harry's wand. The force of it knocked both dementors down. Ok. Hold on a sec. Can you even "knock" down a dementor? I thought a patronus made them glide away…

"Oh my God!" I heard Denise shriek. But I didn't have to ask Denise what the problem was, as I was still staring at the mess of so-called dementors on the ground. Underneath the pile of raggedy dementor-like cloaks was a heap of tangled arms and legs. It was the Malfoy kid, along with his friends, Crabbe, Goyle and Flint.

"I can't believe they would try to pull something like that!" Vince exclaimed angrily, pointing at the ground. "I mean, yes, I want Gryffindor to lose, but not by dirty tactics like _that_!"

I sniggered as I watched Professor McGonagall hurrying across the sidelines towards the Slytherin boys. She looked completely livid, and I couldn't help but smirk. It's always funny to watch her get angry…I mean, as long as it's not me she's angry with…

"I don't think even dirty tactics is going to stop Gryffindor!" Denise shouted, pointing ahead of us. Vince and I immediately glanced up to see where she was pointing. Harry was closing in on the snitch…

"GRYFFINDOR WINS!" fifth year Gryffindor and commentator Lee Jordan shouted into his megaphone. The entire pitch erupted.

I screamed and cheered along with everyone else, even though I probably would've done it anyway if Ravenclaw had won. Hey, it's all about the adrenaline rush! I quickly followed Denise and Vince down the steps and hurried onto the pitch with everyone else. Above us, the entire Gryffindor team had flown into Harry's direction to hug him and congratulate his spectacular play. I squinted, trying to protect my eyes from the sun as I looked for Oliver. Being the furthest away, he was the last one to join the group. I don't think I've ever seen him this happy before. I couldn't help but giggle as I watched him practically throw himself on Harry and then proceed to give all the other team members a pat on the back. He looked sort of like a proud father. Aw, so cute! Oliver as a dad…aw. He would make a great dad. He'd raise all of his kids to play quidditch just like him…oh, and if he had girls, he would be so protective of them! Aw…ok. No more fantasizing about Oliver's kids; and certainly no more fantasizing about _having _kids with Oliver…

As I followed Denise and Vince through the crowd, I bumped into someone. I muttered a quick apology and was about to continue on my way, when I realized the person I had bumped into was Professor Lupin. Huh. I never knew it was possible to be so excited and disappointed at the same time.

"Oh! Professor Lupin!" I squeaked. Ok. Starting tomorrow, I'm going to practice my Lupin greetings…maybe in front of a mirror or something.

He smiled at me, though it looked a bit wary. I could feel my pulse racing. Did he look like that because he noticed me staring at him and was also thinking about that right now? Oh hell. Even if he hadn't noticed, I've still given him reason to feel weird around me, what with my whole obsession with him and such…

"Well, that was quite a game, wasn't it?" he asked cheerily.

I smiled. "I'm sure you're proud of your former house."

"Very."

"Professor Lupin!"

Lupin and I glanced around and saw Harry making his way through the crowd towards him with a grin on his face. Aw! Harry looks so adorable when he's happy!

"Ah—I'm sorry, excuse me, Suzie…" Lupin said as he nodded at me and then hurried off to meet Harry, probably to congratulate him. I sighed, and glanced around, wondering where Denise and Vince were. I couldn't see them anywhere. Great. I had lost them.

I stood in my place for several moments, looking all around me and trying to decide what to do. I watched as Lupin led Harry towards the site of the dementor-impersonators, who were currently still being yelled at by McGonagall. I turned around and several feet in front of me saw Roger Davies shaking hands with Oliver and telling him something—congratulating him probably. I watched as Roger walked away, and then turned my attention back to Oliver. He was standing by himself. Hmm. As a friend, I really feel obligated to go over there and congratulate him for his victory, and wish him luck in the final match against Slytherin. I think a great big hug is also in order…

I grinned as I headed towards him, though trying my best not to look too excited, as I imagine that would scare him, especially if he knew I was only excited about talking to him and giving him a hug. As I neared him, I raised a hand to wave to him, and was about to call out his name when all of a sudden a toothpick of girl with long blonde hair appeared out of nowhere, nearly knocking Oliver down in her embrace.

"Congratulations, sweety!" Madeline squealed as she pulled away from him and began showering him with kisses. Ew.

I stopped in my place, and continued to watch them for a few moments. I could feel myself getting extremely warm. I could feel a tiny voice in the back of my head reminding me that Oliver has done nothing to me…but I wanted to beat down that little voice and strangle it. I don't care if he hasn't intentionally done anything to me. And anyway, how do we know it's not intentional? He _knew_ I liked him. He knew I'd be at this match. Hell, he saw me and waved to me earlier! And now, here he is, snogging his slutty, anorexic girlfriend right in front of me. He had to know I'd see it. He had to know I'd be hurt to see it. Yet he obviously doesn't care. In the back of my mind, I know I'm raving like a madwoman, but at the moment, I have to say I don't really care.

Abandoning all hope of finding Denise and Vince amongst the throngs of students, staff and parents, I decided to head back to the castle. The image of Oliver and Madeline celebrating so festively on the quidditch pitch is emblazed in my mind, right next to the image of them snogging by the Hufflepuff portrait hole, when I first found out about them many moons ago. I swear, when I get back to the dormitory, I'm going to take Madeline's favorite peacock-feather quill and shove it up her—

"Roger! Hi!"

As I was leaving the quidditch pitch, I walked past the entrance of one of the restrooms, from which Roger Davies had just emerged.

"Oh, hey Suzie." He replied. He smiled at me, and I immediately felt a little guilty, because I could tell it was forced. Though whether it was because I had turned down a date with him or because he had just lost the match, I wasn't too sure. Oh, who am I kidding? He's depressed because he lost…

"So…er…I'm sorry about the match." I said awkwardly as I stopped walking to let him catch up with me. "But you played really well!"

Still smiling, he shrugged. "Thanks. And it's no big deal. I've got a couple more years before I graduate…I suppose Oliver wanted that cup more than I did, as it's his last year and he's more obsessed with the game than anyone else around here."

I laughed. "Well, he hasn't won it yet." I said, now wondering if it would be beneath me to root for Slytherin in the next match.

Roger nodded. "True. But if it's between Slytherin and Gryffindor, I'd rather see the latter winning. Did you see that thing Flint and all of them pulled? That was pretty rotten."

"Yeah, it was." I agreed, wishing some dementors would come and suck out Oliver's soul. Ok, that's a bit harsh. Maybe if they just chased him and Madeline and scared them away…

That little voice in the back of my head was back again, and as I looked up to see Roger's countenance, it tugged at me, reminding me that he was a couple of years younger than me, and that I wasn't even attracted to him. He did have that cute hair though, and he was very nice…and as we continued to walk in relative silence, I couldn't help but notice how good of a colour blue was on him…

"Hey, Roger?" I started uncertainly.

He turned his head a bit and looked at me expectantly.

"Um…you know how you asked me out before?"

That got his attention. He didn't stop walking, but I could tell his ears had perked up considerably. "Yeah?"

"Well…I was wondering if it was too late to change my answer." I said, raising my eyebrows at him tentatively.

Roger had stopped walking. I glanced up at him and saw that he was frowning at me. "Are you asking me because you feel bad that we lost or something?"

"Huh? Oh! No—"

He was still frowning. "You sure this isn't a sympathy ask-out? Because if it is…well…you can just go ahead and ask me." He finished with a grin.

I sighed, but to cover up for my relief, which probably would've made me look a bit desperate, I laughed. "Well, it's not a sympathy ask-out. It's just me saying that I changed my mind. So…er…how do you feel about that?"

Roger grinned. "I feel like I'm extremely lucky."

I felt myself blush.

"I think I told you before that the next Hogsmeade trip is on Valentine's Day," he continued, "Would you like to get together then?"

I smiled as we reached the castle and incidentally, the parting of our ways. "Sounds perfect."

We said goodbye to each other, and as he headed up the stairs and I continued down the corridor, I couldn't help but feel content with myself. I am going on a date with Roger Davies! Sure, he's a bit younger than me, but so what? He's cute, he's popular, he actually seems to have a personality, and he _likes_ me. And with the voice at the back of my head resigned into silence, I hurried the rest of the way to my dormitory so I could pick out my outfit for Valentine's Day.

_A/N: __I announced late into posting the previous chapter that I had a mailing list going for anyone interested in getting notification of updates of this story…so to reiterate, if you're interested, drop me your e-mail address in your review/an e-mail blog (link is in author's page)...I check all. ) Course this announcement is useless to those reading on so you can just ignore this if that be the case. ;)_


	14. Sorry, Oliver Who?

_A/N: First, I have to say this chapter is incomplete. Seriously, it just ends really abruptly…lol...I really wanted to get to the fun-filled Roger date, but I just kept writing, and then this random thing came to me that I wanted to write and it ended up taking a few pages…lol…so yeah…basically the chapter would've been too long if I had actually gotten to the date. So here it is…not quite what it's supposed to be…not as eventful as I had planned (though there were a few tiny things here and there I **did** have fun writing and hope you enjoy as well) So anyway, there you go. ) Oh, I forgot to mention before, if you have any questions or comments (I guess, aside from a regular review), you can post here in the hpff forums: __http/ I can't remember if hpff lets you post w/out signing up…so you may need to do so before posting. ) A bit shorter than my regulars, but I was desperate to get something to you guys soon…lol so yeah, that's about it. Enjoy. )_

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Chapter Fourteen: Sorry, Oliver –Who?

---------

I groaned into my pillow as I pulled my bed covers over my head.

"Honestly, Suzie! I'm not even the one who has Potions this morning! Get up!" Denise scolded, tugging at my blanket.

"Die." I grunted as I held tightly to my blanket, as if my life depended on it.

"Suzie, come on! Don't you want to have some breakfast?"

"Die twice."

I sighed quietly when Denise didn't respond. Victory at last. Can't the woman understand I don't want to get up? Class doesn't start for another half hour. I don't want breakfast, so I can afford to sleep for another ten or fifteen minutes.

"Accio blanket!"

I screamed—not only because I felt my blanket being torn forcefully from me—but because I rolled off my bed with it, landing very hard on the cold floor. Oh, my butt.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I squealed as I curled up into a ball on the floor. This is awfully pathetic, I know. I'm fighting a losing battle and should just give in and get up, but it's a matter of pride…

Denise laughed lightly as she dumped my blanket on my bed. I stupidly stretched out my arm to reach for it, but Denise was quicker. Grabbing my hand, she yanked me up.

"You really can't afford getting into any more trouble with Snape." Denise said kindly as she shoved me in the direction of the bathroom.

"I could've just skipped breakfast," I muttered, "and slept in for a few more minutes and I still would've been on time for Potions."

"Suzie, you never skip breakfast."

I meant to tell her to sod off, but instead it came out as a grunt. I think I used up all my energy battling for my blanket…ok, I needed breakfast. I might have just shut down within a few minutes if I didn't eat…

By the time I came out of the bathroom, slightly more refreshed, I saw that Denise had left, and our dormitory was empty. At first I figured it was because she was particularly hungry and just couldn't wait for me, but as I pulled my jumper on over my head, I remembered: owl post. Denise was saying something last night about expecting a letter from Vince. Meh. If I had a lovely man friend to expect letters from, I'd probably be in a rush for breakfast too. But as it is…

Oh wait, I forgot. Roger. I grinned slightly as I zipped the side of my skirt. He's sort of my lovely man friend now, isn't he? Well, maybe not quite. We haven't even gone on our first date yet. But still, I do have dibs on him now. What a nice thought. I have a man. Well, I'm going to have a man after my first date. Whatever. Oh, this is exciting!

I found myself getting dressed much quicker from that point on, and within a few minutes I was already downstairs and bounding through the Great Hall. Yes, I was actually bounding down the Great Hall. I can't help it if I'm cheery this morning…I have a guy! Er—going to  
have a guy. Going to. Whatever.

----------

I soon found Denise and fell into the seat next to her, grinning as I said hello. Half expecting her to look up at me in surprise, I was a bit thrown when she didn't even acknowledge me. Ok, so she was busy talking to Cedric right now, but still…I would've thought she'd at least respond to me! Hell, Cedric too…he usually took the time to say hi to me at meals. But as I glanced around our table, I realized that everyone was chattering kind of nervously. In fact, as I looked over my shoulder to take in the rest of the Great Hall, I realized that the same nervous buzz was going around the entire school. Er…did something happen?

I turned back around and nudged Denise in the side. She looked up, startled.

"Oh," she said with a relieved sigh. "Suzie, you won't believe—Oh, Cedric…you tell her…you know the details."

I quickly turned to Cedric, who had a rather anxious look on his face. "What happened? Why's the whole school seem"—

"Sirius Black." He said, cutting me off. "He came here last night!"

My mouth fell open, and I could feel my entire body tingling. "He…came inside the school?" I squeaked.

Cedric nodded. "Late last night, apparently. He broke into the Gryffindor common room, after everyone had gone to bed."

"But how? Don't you need the password?" I asked, imagining the portrait of Sir Cadogan, who was guarding the Gryffindor common room in place of the Fat Lady's since Black's last attempt to break in.

Cedric frowned. "You know that boy Neville?" Denise and I nodded. "Apparently he had like, the week's worth of passwords lying around somewhere, and Black found them…so he got in."

I could feel my stomach going into a knot. Oh God. Sirius Black got into the Gryffindor common room.

"Did he hurt anyone?" I asked tensely.

Cedric shook his head. "Ron Weasley woke up to find him standing over his bed with a knife. He shouted, and Black was gone before everyone else could even wake up."

I gasped, and I could hear Denise whimper. "He was going to kill Ron?" I asked in a whisper.

Cedric looked very pale now, but had shrugged. "Everyone reckons he was probably out to get Harry, but just got the wrong bed."

Denise sighed. I turned to look at her, and saw that she too was rather pale, and looked quite shaken up. "I don't believe it." She said quietly. "We're not safe here anymore, are we?"

I didn't say anything to this, and neither did Cedric. We all just sort of looked at each other and quietly went back to our breakfast. God. Sirius Black inside Hogwarts, again. And this time he got into the common room, and had been only feet away from his almost-victim. I shuddered as I pictured what might have happened if Black had gotten the right bed. The image of Harry Potter, completely young and elated at yesterday's quidditch match, flickered in my mind. There's so much mystery around that boy's life, and You-Know-Who's relationship to it. I know nothing of it, to be honest, and I don't think anyone else does either. All we do know is You-Know-Who tried to kill him, and his attempts somehow backfired. No one knows how. We studied unforgivable curses a few weeks ago in Defense Against the Dark Arts; Professor Lupin only touched on them briefly because—well, it was dark magic—and because there weren't any counter-curses to practice. He just said he wanted to know what was out there.

I sighed quietly as I watched the owls arriving with the morning post. Professor Lupin had actually looked a bit uneasy when he had spoken to us about unforgivables. I didn't think I had ever seen Lupin tense before…mind you, it wasn't that obvious. I was sure most people didn't notice, but then again, I didn't think anyone in class observed him as much as I did. (In a sense, I felt as though my stalkerish ways were finally being put to good use!) But there he was, talking about the killing curse, and for a brief moment, his eyes seemed to go blank. He paused, and then told us there was no defense against "Avada Kedavra." And then he delved into the punishments for performing unforgivables—life sentence in Azakaban or even worse, a dementor's kiss.

I wouldn't even know how to describe the feeling that seemed to emanate from that look in his eyes. Scared and sad at the same time, perhaps. Nervous about something, or resigned about something. It was too hard to tell. That man was totally unreadable most of the time. He's always looked so pleasant and at ease, though judging by his tired face and worn-out robes, I'd say he's had his fair share of rough goings.

I sighed again as I picked up my biscuit. "Pass the butter, Denise…"

I glanced up when she didn't pass it. She was reading a letter, and judging by the mesmerized look on her face, it must have been from Vince. I rolled my eyes as I reached past her for the butter.

"Is that a letter from Vincent?" I asked, jabbing Denise in the arm with my butter knife. No worries, poking one another with sharp objects has always been a favorite pastime between Denise and me.

Denise gasped and dropped her letter, throwing a glare at me when she realized her letter had fallen onto her pancake and was now sticky with syrup. Woops.

"Is that a letter from Vincey-poo?" I asked sweetly as Denise pulled out her wand and muttered a cleaning spell.

She rolled her eyes, but was smiling slightly and blushing. "Yes."

I grinned at her smugly. "What's he saying?"

"Nothing…"

God. She's so damn coy, I could hit her.

I pouted. "Come on, tell me!"

"Suzie…"

"Did he say something dirty?" I whispered eagerly, imagining Vince sitting all sexily in a plush leather chair, in front of a beautiful, antique desk with a burgundy finish…and suddenly, I begin to wonder if I should have gone into interior decorating or something…

Denise gasped. "No!" she said in a rather defensive tone. I rolled my eyes at her, trying to look doubtful in hopes that she'd cave and tell me about the letter.

"It's just a casual letter," Denise finally said as she glanced back at it. "He's just saying he had fun at the quidditch match, and that you were a delight to meet"—

I sniggered. "He said I was a delight to meet?"

Denise frowned at me. "Yes, so?"

"Nothing! That just sounds so proper and formal…and I'd expect nothing less from a well-bred man like him!" I added for good measure.

Denise smiled slightly in satisfaction as she went back to her letter.

"Of course," I added, "if you were born a hundred ago, he would be requesting you to save the first few dances for him at the next ball right about now."

"Oh shush." Denise muttered as she continued on her letter.

I giggled as I stood up. "Right, sorry. I'm sure their family still does those kinds of balls. Well, be sure to let me know well in advance if I'm invited…I'll be needing to buy a new crinoline…"

But I could tell Denise hadn't really heard anything. She was still staring dreamily at her letter. Oh, boy…

"Right…well, I'm going to go to Potions, Denise. I wanted to get there early to ask Snape some questions, Lord help me." I said, picking up my bag, "I'll see you in Lupin's class later."

Denise nodded absently at first but then snapped her head at me. "Oh! Alright. I guess I'm going to use my free period to write back to Vince. Oh, and later on I want to go through your wardrobe to help you pick out an outfit for the weekend."

I cocked an eyebrow at Denise. "Why, what's happening on the weekend?"

Denise's jaw dropped slightly. "Your date with Roger! Suzie! You forgot"—

"Oh!" I said with a laugh. God, I'm such an idiot. I knew that. I remembered I was having a date with Roger. How could I forget something like that? It's all I've been talking and thinking about since he asked me yesterday. In fact, I've already got my outfit picked out—that's how excited I am. I, Suzie Hennessey, picked out my clothes ahead of time. And the only ever time I did that was for my job interview with the Daily Prophet. Oh, alright. And a few evenings when I was planning on going to Professor Lupin's office for homework help…I might have stayed up late the night before to figure out which muggle clothes looked hottest on me but were casual enough to wear around the castle after school hours. But seriously other than that, I never go out of my way to pick outfits ahead of time.

"Actually, I plan on wearing my green dress for the date." I said with smugly. "You know? The one with the V-neck—what?" I asked when I saw the horrified look on Denise's face.

"That dress is all wrong, Suzie. Don't wear it."

I frowned. "But it's my favorite dress!"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Denise said quickly with a slightly stricken look on her face, "but it's not flattering! It's a lovely dress, but not on your figure!"

Er…my figure? I looked down at myself. Was I fat or something? Last time I weighed myself, I thought I was alright…

"Oh there's nothing wrong with your figure!" Denise said, now standing up to put an arm around me and looking very concerned, like I was going to break down and cry or something. "You just have…full hips…and they're beautiful, but the green dress makes them look bigger than they really are."

I cocked an eyebrow at Denise. "Er…you think my full hips are beautiful?"

Almost immediately Denise pulled away from me. We looked at each other suspiciously for a moment before taking a few steps back from each other.

"I think we spend too much time together." Denise finally said.

I sighed and nodded. It was true. We knew each other so well, inside and out, it tended to get weird every so often. Once, in transfiguration last year, I found myself staring at Denise's boobs, completely in awe at how proportionate they were to her body. I mean, hers are small, but she's a tiny girl. I'm a bit taller, but mine are like, even smaller than hers. Not fair. And I was marveling at that one day, and then it struck me that I was admiring my friend's boobs. It was weird. So this definitely wasn't the first time.

"Ok…" I started, glancing at my watch to make sure I still had enough time to get to Potions early, "tonight we can go through my wardrobe"—

"And mine!" Denise interjected, obviously choosing to ignore our awkward moment as I was, "No offense, but I think you have a better shot at finding something nice in my wardrobe…you know, I like to dress up more and stuff."

I rolled my eyes. "Ok, fine. Whatever you want."

"This is your date, Suzie! This is all for you!" Denise replied indignantly.

I backed away quickly. "Ok! Ok! I'm thrilled and completely overjoyed and very much looking forward to our evening raiding of the closets! Now, shut up and let me go to Potions!"

-------------------

Damn, damn, damn. I'll never get to ask that damn Snape my damn questions, and now I'm going to fail the damn exam next week. Sigh. If only Oliver were still tutoring me…Oh. Right. Oliver has been forgotten. If only Denise hadn't kept me in the Great Hall, I would have left earlier. But no, she just had to bring up the prospects of double dating right when I turned to leave, and immediately I was pulled back to the Hufflepuff table to discuss the possibilities. I mean, alright. Roger and I haven't successfully dated yet, but just think: He and I opposite of Vince and Denise. We would have so much fun. Ok, I didn't really know Vince or Roger very well, but I was sure they'd have gotten along great…I mean, Roger and Vince were both Ravenclaws, so there you go! I wondered if Roger and Vince knew each other, since they were in the same house together for a few years. Aw, it would be like a little reunion for them!

I was just turning the corner, trying to decide where Denise and I would go on our dates, when I ran straight into Roger, knocking a roll of parchment he was carrying out of his hands, causing it to roll open on the floor.

"Oh! Roger, I'm sorry!" I said leapt forward to catch his runaway parchment.

"It's alright. I can get it"—Roger started as he moved towards me, but then stopped as I bent over to pick up the unrolled parchment—"actually on second thought, I would greatly appreciate it if you got it."

His voice was completely unrestrained. I glanced over my shoulder as I picked up his parchment, and saw that he was smiling as he watched me with his head tilted slightly, as if to get a better view of me—more specifically, my backside. I snapped back up, and pulled down on my jumper so it would cover my butt.

"You pervert!" I said, trying to sound offended, though knowing full well I was failing miserably. I could feel my cheeks heating up, and my mouth twisting into a small smile.

Roger's jaw dropped slightly in mock surprise. Er…at least I thought it was mock surprise.

"I most certainly am not! I happen to be an artist, who happens to enjoy and appreciate beauty at various angles…and I was simply appreciating this posterior angle you were so willingly presenting."

Oh—definitely mock surprise.

"It was hardly done willingly." I replied as I rolled up his parchment and handed it to him. "I feel like I'm being sexually harassed."

Roger wiggled his eyebrows at me as he held out his arm to walk me through the rest of the corridor. "Report me then. I am admittedly rather lecherous, but the ladies seem to love it."

I couldn't think of anything to say to him as we continued to walk, so I just rolled my eyes at him. I've always felt that eye-rolling was the safest thing to do when you were not quite sure of how to react in certain situations. For some reason, it's always seemed like the intelligent sort of thing to do, basically implying that you're being silly, and I'm more mature than you. That's a pretty safe attitude to convey when you're not really sure what else to do, in my opinion.

After a moment, Roger started up again, "So…I'm looking forward to our date."

"Me too." I said, grinning.

Oh, yes…oozing intelligence right there. This Ravenclaw will be wrapped around my finger in no time…

Roger chuckled a little. "Seriously. You have no idea how thrilled I was when you came and changed your mind."

"Really?" I asked, probably sounding a little too eager. Ok, I need to cool it. This guy just got a date with a girl two years older than him; his ego must be big enough as it is.

"Yeah, sure." Roger continued, "Aside from the fact that it completely took my mind off of losing the quidditch match, I had been kind of nervous about asking you out in the first place, since you're…well, older than me and whatnot. I was half-expecting a rejection."

I grinned. "Well, you technically did get a rejection, Roger."

Roger made a face at me. "Yeah, well…you revoked it, so let's just focus on that, shall we? Anyway, I knew you'd come around. Most women just can't resist the Davies charm. I figured it was only a matter of time before you caved—anyway," he said, seeing me roll my eyes at him again, "I truly am excited about taking you out."

"Good." I replied. Ok, that was supposed to sound more authoritative. The 'good' was supposed to say, Yeah, you better be excited about taking me out. Instead, I think it came off as…well, I don't know how it sounded. Stupid, I guess.

"So," he said after a moment, "where exactly are we going?"

I smiled slightly. "Wherever you want. I'm ok with anything, really."

Roger cocked an eyebrow at me, looking slightly confused, but then threw his head back a little and laughed. "No, I meant where are we walking right now? Have you got a class or something?"

"Oh!"

I felt myself blush. Of course. I'm such an idiot.

"Er…I'm going to Potions." I said. "I wanted to get there early to ask Professor Snape some questions, but Denise sort of delayed me in the Great Hall."

"Potions-related questions?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes at him. "No, I wanted to know his sign so we could compare horoscopes…"

Roger grinned. "Well, I know for a fact that Snape is a Libra."

I sniggered. "Really?"

"No idea."

We turned the corner and had approached the staircase that led towards Snape's classroom. It was at this point Roger stopped walking, turning to me and smiling. "I can't stand the stench of all the potions, and I'm already starting to smell them…you mind if I leave you here?" Roger asked.

"Yes, a little." I replied.

Roger smiled. "Well, Suzie, I can only hope that you'll forgive me in time for our date."

"Not likely."

"I suppose that's all for the better to stay mad at me." Roger said wryly. "I like my dates to have a little sexual tension."

I couldn't help but laugh. Starting to feel as though this were a match made in heaven. Roger seemed pervy…I seemed pervy…this was working out pretty well so far, having so much in common!

"You're awfully crass." I found myself saying with a laugh. Even though I was thoroughly amused at Roger's open wantonness, I was surprised at myself for even pointing it out. I always thought if I met someone as lewd and weird as me, the exposure would really set the pervert in me free, and we would just revel in our perviness together. I know. That didn't come out right at all.

"And so I am," Roger said, looking down with a smile as he took my hands. "All part of the Roger description."

We were standing awfully close now, and I only just realized that I was leaning slightly against the stair's banister. I wasn't really looking up, but I could feel Roger drawing closer to me, and I could feel his eyes on me. And then the most fantastic yet overwhelming, smothering sensation hit me. I felt dizzy, I felt my surroundings whirling around me, or like I was whirling around…I couldn't tell…like I was experiencing vertigo, or like I was holding onto a portkey or something. My heart was racing, and sirens with flashes of red light were going off in my head. I was growing warm, and it seemed like the only way to make it all stop was to look up. So I did.

And we kissed.

Oh, my God, Roger Davies was a good man. I closed my eyes as I felt his lips brushing against mine. It was gentle at first, but almost immediately he was pressing on, trying to deepen the kiss, and wow, did it work. I mean, well…let's just say I have never been this delighted by a tongue in my entire life.

"Ahem."

Someone had cleared his or her throat, and Roger had sprung away from me like a card in Exploding Snap. I attempted to spring away as well, but as I was already backed up against the banister, I ended up banging against it a little, hurting my shoulder blade in the process. But I barely noticed the pain, as right now I was more occupied with the fact that my cheeks were burning. Professor Lupin had just come up the stairs on which Roger and I were snogging.

Ever have one of those moments where your life just flashes right before your eyes? Well, I was having one of those moments right now. (And it included a brief memory of me when I was five and stripping down all of my male and female dolls because I was…er…curious…and my mum caught me and gave me the "birds and bees" lecture. Yes, I got "the talk" that young. Yes, I think the screws were loose in my mum's head…)

"Professor!" Roger said cheerily, waving a hand at him. I glanced at Roger, and noticed he was a little pink, but smiling casually nonetheless. "Er…fancy seeing you here!"

I saw Professor Lupin's jaw tighten, like he was trying not to smile or something. I knew the look. I had done that myself numerous times, usually in the presence of Professor Snape or Professor McGonagall when they were telling me off for silly things like sitting in a chair with my legs wide open "like a common prostitute" instead of having them crossed (yes, that was McGonagall, last year.)

"I was just coming from Professor Snape's office…I had a few things to discuss with him." Professor Lupin said. "And Roger, I believe I've given you warnings about public displays of affection before."

This wasn't the first time Lupin's caught Roger snogging in hallways? Somewhat amused, somewhat…offended? The idea of being 'one of the many' bothers me a little.

Roger grinned. "Er…right, sorry sir. I won't do it again. I mean"—he turned to me and winked—"I'll do it again plenty, just not here in school."

I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing as Lupin shook his head.

"A fine resolution." Lupin replied, "Now I suggest you be on your way…I believe Suzie has a class to get to. Am I right?" he asked, turning to me.

I nodded. "Yeah, I was heading to Potions." I said, realizing my voice had gone a bit raspy, possibly from not having enough oxygen passing through my body a few moments ago, or from utter shock of having Lupin catching Roger and me…

"Right then." said Roger as he backed away a little, glancing at me. "Wait for me in the Great Hall after breakfast this weekend. We'll walk together to Hogsmeade."

"Sure." I said, feeling myself blush again. Did he have to go over our plans now, in front of Lupin?

Roger began walking away, but then glanced over his shoulder as he shouted, "oh, and wear something completely evil, please!"

Oh, how I wanted to die. Roger turned the corner and was out of sight, leaving me standing in my place with Professor Lupin. I never would've thought something like this could be so embarrassing. I mean, considering the extent to which I've fantasized about Professor Lupin, him hearing about my date, him seeing me kiss Roger shouldn't have been so awkward…and yet it was.

I decided to, as muggles say, bite the bullet. I forced myself to look at Professor Lupin and smile.

"Hi." I said, grinning stupidly.

Oh, what's wrong with me?

Professor Lupin just smiled shrewdly. Probably thinking cockily that he had finally rid himself of me…that finally, his prayers had been answered…that Suzie Hennessey finally found herself a man, allowing Professor Remus J. Lupin to finally live in peace. I've always wanted to know what the 'J' in his name stood for. I needed to ask him one day…oh no, wait. That would've gone against my promise to myself (and to Denise) to act more aloof around Lupin. I needed to make him think I didn't like him anymore, you know, to make things less awkward…though, I know. Resolving to act normal around someone as sexy as Professor Lupin seemed as promising as building a house of straw on top a foundation of sand…

"So. Mr. Davies and you are…?" his voice trailed off.

"Yes, he asked me out the other day." I replied a bit stiffly.

"Uh huh."

"And I said yes."

"Obviously."

Oh, right…it was obvious, wasn't it? I smiled slightly, reliving the brief happy moment I had just shared with Roger.

"Well, I said no at first…" I replied quickly.

"Really?" Lupin said, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"Yes, but then I changed my mind."

Again. Obvious. Fortunately, Professor Lupin didn't voice that thought this time.

"Well," Lupin said with a smile, "good for you. I'm happy for you if you're happy."

"Oh, I am." I replied. Oh, that sounded a bit passive-aggressive. Great. I needed therapy.

Lupin smiled that sexy genial smile of his. "Good."

"Yep." I said as with a head bob.

We stood there for a few moments in silence. Awkward. What else was I supposed to say? Oh! Class! Damn! I had class, and he knew that. I was supposed to excuse myself to go to class, instead of lingering around here like an idiot.

"Right, well…class." I said stupidly, pointing down the staircase.

"Yes. You don't want to be late." Lupin replied.

"Right." I said again, as I backed down onto the steps. "I'll see you later Prof—Aghh!"

I screamed as I missed the step beneath me and fell backwards. I vaguely heard Professor Lupin shout my name, but my surroundings were immediately drowned out as the pain from hitting the back of my head against the stone step overtook me. My arms flailed around uselessly, trying to grab a hold of something to keep myself from going down further, but to no avail. I tumbled over again, and it was at this point I could hear the distant sound of Lupin's voice, and an instant later, I felt a gush of air shooting at me, suspending me in the air for a moment before slowly carrying me to the bottom of the staircase. I crumpled at the base of the stairs, and was only remotely aware of Lupin's rushing footsteps, which seemed to be beating against the stairs in perfect rhythm with the throbbing of my head.

The last time I fell down a flight of stairs was when I was about six. I was running down the stairs at home to greet my dad, who had just gotten back from a month-long trip to Germany. I had been so eager to see him, and to see the presents he had brought back for me from Berlin. I had cried hysterically from the pain. If I remembered correctly, the pain was pretty comparable to the pain I was feeling right now, and I was certainly ready to cry right now like I had done years ago. But I held them back as I felt Lupin kneeling next to me. All I could feel now was embarrassment. I just fell down the stairs in front of Professor Lupin like an idiot. Could things get any worse?

"Suzie, are you alright?" he asked as he gently turned me over and pulled me up to sit. I fell back a little, but Lupin was still holding me up so I ended up leaning against his arm.

I nodded a little. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Lupin looked at me, unconvinced.

"Really," I said, "Pain, yes…but nothing serious. I think I'll be fine."

With Professor Lupin's help, I stood up. Having fallen on my back first though, I winced considerably when I straightened up. Professor Lupin frowned at me.

"Do you want me to take you to the hospital wing?" he asked, probably unaware that he was still holding my arm—not that I was complaining or anything.

I shook my head quickly, trying to rid myself of the thought of Lupin carrying me all the way to the hospital wing—partly because now hardly seemed the time for fantasizing, and partly because Lupin looked too weak to do the job, as wiry as I'd like to think him…

Not to mention he'd probably levitate me all the way to Madam Pomfrey's instead of carry me, since the latter would probably count as sexual harassment on his part, damn school rules…

"You hit your head, didn't you?" he continued, observing me, "I really think you ought to see Madam Pomfrey, just in case."

My head did hurt, actually. A lot. Besides, being levitated up three floors might have been fun. I shrugged and agreed to go see her.

Professor Lupin picked up my bag. "Alright. I'll go tell Professor Snape what happened so he'll excuse you from today's lesson, and then we'll go to the hospital wing."

-------------------------

I was never a fan of being levitated anyway.

Being the sweetheart that he was, Lupin helped me walk all the way up to the hospital wing. It probably wasn't as sweep-you-off-your-feet as being carried, but this was much better, and definitely didn't constitute as sexual harassment. I mean, not that I would have minded sexual advances from Lupin, obviously. But still. He had an image to uphold, didn't he? He had my bag under one arm, and was using the other to hold me up. At first he had wrapped it around my waist, but then quickly shifted it to hold my own arm. Hmph. Probably thought I would have enjoyed his arm around my waist too much. I mean, I would have, but that was beside the point. I kind of felt like an old lady now. I mean, this was how Denise always helped her grandmother walk when they visited each other. Great. I was an invalid. Oh well. I supposed this would have been physically the closest I'd ever get to Professor Lupin. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts. Hmm. Sudden urge to fake dizziness, and faint into his arms…

Oh, I was such a whore. I took advantage of poor Professor Lupin.

Sort of. I mean, my actions were kind of justified. I was in a great deal of pain, seriously. And his shoulder was just…there. And it looked so comfortable and inviting, and really, when would I have ever gotten this opportunity again? Look, I couldn't help it! I was feeling vulnerable, and my head really hurt, and I just wanted to be comforted, and to rest my damn head against something…so I did. I rested it against Professor Lupin's shoulder. Except he was kind of tall, so it was really his arm…but whatever, any part of Lupin would've worked. And boy, did it work. Before I realized what I was doing, I found myself…kind of…um…snuggling into it. It was just so damn comfy. And it was Lupin's arm…it was perfect. The only thing I was concerned about at the moment was his reaction.

And At first there wasn't any. I closed my eyes a little as I let him lead me towards the hospital wing, so I couldn't tell if he had looked down at me. He probably did though, wondering what the hell I was doing. I waited a few moments for him to shrug me off or something, or perhaps request some passing student to take over and help me the rest of the way. But he didn't do anything. Hmm. Maybe I was overanalyzing the situation. Maybe it wasn't that big a deal if a student and teacher touched like this…it was a bit of an emergency, after all…

"Head still hurts?" he asked quietly, startling me, as I had just begun fantasizing about the possibilities of finding an empty hospital wing, in which Lupin would proceed to "tend to my needs." I know, completely foolish. Damn Madam Pomfrey never leaves that place…

"Mmm…" I mumbled, attempting to nod my head against his arm.

"Don't close your eyes," he said, shaking my arm gently, "you shouldn't sleep just yet, in case you have a concussion…"

I forced my eyes open. "Right."

We walked the rest of the way in silence, except for the moment where I felt guilty about using my weakened state to take advantage of Lupin, and lifted my head from him and apologized for using him as a pillow. He laughed a little and said it was alright, and told me to rest my head if I wanted to. I happily complied (though naturally, I hesitated a bit so as to not appear that clingy towards him), and fell against his side again, allowing myself to get comfortable against his arm. God, I love his arms…they're so long and sinewy; I kind of wished he had carried me to the hospital wing…

But here we were in the hospital wing, and not a moment too soon did Madam Pomfrey come rushing in, fussing at the sight of me, saying I looked a mess—which I didn't quite get. I wasn't exactly battered or anything. My hair was a little disheveled, and I did come limping in with Professor Lupin, but otherwise I looked fine. Well, I thought so anyway…

"Suzie fell down the stairs, Poppy," Lupin said as he and Madam Pomfrey helped me into a bed. "I don't think she's too badly hurt…but she did hit her head"—

But Madam Pomfrey didn't seem to be listening. She was already bustling over to one of her shelves, examining bottles of potions and ointments.

"You aren't the first person to have fallen down one of those horrid staircases." Madam Pomfrey said as she hurried over to my bedside. "I keep telling Dumbledore that those confounded shifting staircases are a complete hazard"—

"Oh, actually…it wasn't a shifting staircase…it was a regular one…the one that leads to Snape's class." I muttered as I felt Madam Pomfrey massaging my scalp, who I assumed was checking for injuries, not practicing her abilities as a masseuse.

Madam Pomfrey simply sighed, and a moment later Lupin had excused himself. I watched his retreating figure as Madam Pomfrey stripped me down to check for other abrasions apart from the ones on my head (how thick must I have been to not realize the back of my head was bleeding? Actually, how thick was my hair to keep me from noticing my head was bleeding? I needed a haircut, I knew that. And Madam Pomfrey telling me so also confirmed it.) Lupin was sweet, bringing me all the way up here. But as I winced while Madam Pomfrey forced me to turn over to put some weird sort of healing goop on my back, I realized Lupin was kind of the reason I fell. His presence had made me all ditzy (well, more so than usual) and spazzy. I mean, normally I wasn't that clumsy. Well, ok. I've had the occasional trip-over-the-shoe-lace incident, but I haven't fallen down a flight of steps in over ten years.

And I was supposed to be acting aloof around Lupin. Instead, I rolled down a stone staircase in front of him and allowed him to help me up to the hospital wing, clinging to him as I did so. Mmm. Nice start.

-----------------

One of the Weasley twins glared at me.

I wouldn't stop grinning though. His earlobes just wouldn't stop wiggling, and I couldn't help but notice that the look suited him perfectly. The other twin's eyebrows had grown about five times their normal size, and were now protruding slightly over his eyes. I had been in the hospital wing for a few hours now (Madam Pomfrey insisted upon it), and the Weasley twins had come in a few minutes earlier, admitting to Madam Pomfrey that they had been dueling each other with fake wands that they had designed, and hadn't "quite worked out the kinks just yet."

"Honestly," Madam Pomfrey huffed as she began rummaging through her storage of healing products, "every other person who comes in here is usually off on something or the other the two of you have invented. And now the masterminds themselves are here. I really don't know what this school would do without me…half the students would be dead at your hands by now, I know that much…"

I grinned as Fred and George nodded proudly.

"Now, you two sit still for a bit…I'm out of the potion I need for your eyebrows, George, and it'll take me a while to brew." Madam Pomfrey said, disappearing behind a curtain that hid her potion-brewing area, where she made most of her own remedies.

The twins and I sat in silence for a few moments, which was rather awkward. I never really knew the twins to ever be quiet.

"So, what are you here for?"

I glanced at who I realized was George, since Madam Pomfrey had said he had the eyebrows. "Er…well…I sort of fell down."

Fred cocked an eyebrow at me. "As in you tripped over your shoelace and fell?"

"No, I…well, I sort of fell down the stairs on my way to Potions." I said, blushing. I suddenly realized what a pathetic reason that was to be in the hospital wing. Last year students were landing in the hospital wing for getting petrified by the monster in the Chamber of Secrets, Harry Potter had lost his bones in a quidditch match because of Professor Lockhart, but I just had to land in the hospital wing for falling down the stairs. I knew it was stupid on my part, but I kind of wanted to have a braver injury than tripping over myself…

Fred nodded as he grabbed a hold of his earlobes, which were dancing uncontrollably around his face. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Yeah," I said, squirming a little in my bed, "nothing serious. Nothing Pomfrey can't fix anyway."

Huh. It was so weird, seeing the twins all mellow like this. It was definitely a more dormant side of their personalities. I had to admit though, I found it slightly creepy.

"So…you'll be better in time for your date with Roger?" George asked with what I thought was a wink underneath his bushy eyebrow.

I spoke too soon.

"How did you know about our date?" I demanded, sitting up straighter.

Fred grinned. "He told us."

"He told you?"

"Well, we have Defense Against the Dark Arts together," George explained, beaming, "we're in the same year, you know, you pedophilic tramp."

"Shut up." I said with a sigh. Naturally though, they did not.

"You know he's only sixteen?" Fred asked, now abandoning his earlobes altogether to give my harassment his full attention.

I glared at him. "So?"

"You're eighteen!"

"I only just turned eighteen," I said, rolling my eyes, "there's not a huge age difference."

"So…after you're done with him, if I ask you out, will say yes? Only I'm still fifteen…so maybe I'm too young." George said with a grin.

"And too immature…" I muttered.

"And you think Roger's more mature?"

"More mature than you!"

"Oh ho! I guess you didn't see the dirty shadow finger-puppet show he did against the projector screen in Defense Against the Dark Arts this morning," Fred said with a laugh, "Professor Lupin caught him and took ten points from Ravenclaw for being lewd."

For a brief moment my annoyance with the twins was forgotten as I tried to imagine the scenario in my head. I ended up giggling aloud, and received eye-rolling from both the twins.

"I wouldn't want to date her anyway," Fred said, turning to George, "she's too silly."

George nodded solemnly. "She'd never take either of us seriously."

I rolled my eyes at them as I fell back in my bed to relax. I wouldn't have even known where to begin with people as oxymoronic as the twins.


	15. The Snape Lupin Love Affair

_A/N: I swear…this is like the story that just wouldn't end. I keep coming up with random little things that I just have to incorporate into the story…lol so…New estimate: we'll end around chapter 18. I promise. In fact, I swear: May Anderson Cooper AND my real-life Professor Lupin (smods) lose their beautiful heads of grey hair should I take this story any longer than chapter 18, plus the epilogue. Yes, that should do it…actually no, let's make it 19 chapters…or 20, just to be safe. I mean, grey hair maketh the man…_

_Ah, and a big thank you to Moony Air for reminding me about Roger's floppy hair. I had a perfect opportunity to mention it in the last chapter and I missed it. So here in this chapter I made sure to pay my proper respects to that thick head of floppy hair (well, it's thick in my mind. lol) :D_

* * *

"A Very Long Chapter about Roger, Oliver, and the Snape/Lupin Love Affair"

* * *

"Honestly, I am perfectly capable of getting my own pitcher of milk, Denise."

I stood up from my seat at the Hufflepuff dining table and leaned forward to get the milk that was resting a few feet away from me.

"See?" I said, flashing a grin at a skeptical looking Denise as I grabbed the milk jug by the handle. "I'm fine! I told you—OH!"

As I pulled myself back to take my seat, a tight pinching sensation came into my right hip. I placed the jug on the table by my plate and carefully sat down. Ok. So I wasn't in tip-top condition right now…

Denise sighed as she poured milk for me in a glass. "Yeah, you're really fine, Suzie. I think you should've listened to Madam Pomfrey and stayed in the hospital wing for another day or two. You're still in too much pain!"

"I am not!" I protested. "For the most part, I'm fine. I just can't exert myself too much, that's all. Not lift heavy things—"

"Like milk jugs?" Denise asked, cocking an eyebrow at me and smiling.

I scowled. "Well, it was heavy! It was full, you know…"

Denise rolled her eyes as she continued on her own breakfast. I was tempted to assure her that I was fine otherwise and didn't need any help, but decided against it as Denise would probably snap at me, telling me I would be getting her help, whether I wanted it or not. See, she was on her period right now, and she tended to get a bit crabby during that time. I know. Hard to imagine. But there it was. Denise, like all human beings, was prone to bad moods every now and then. Anyway, she seemed fine and cheerful enough right now, but she tended to snap very randomly. She also tended to get rather emotional. Yesterday, for example, Denise told me that Professor Lupin had called on her in class yesterday (I was in the hospital wing and sadly missed this) and she fell into tears, saying she didn't like being put on the spot. The truth was she was having very bad cramps, and Lupin calling on her while she was in pain had just been too much for her (yes, her emotional range shrank greatly when it was that time of the month.) Anyway, she apologized to Lupin after class for getting so emotional, and had mumbled something about being sick. Lupin had smiled, given her some chocolate, and told her it was ok. Sigh. So sweet. And so typical of him.

He then told Denise about my falling-down-the-stairs incident (apparently he had a look of concern on his face when he told her! But then again, Denise might've just embellished to make me feel better) and that I was in the hospital wing if she was wondering where I was. And some time after that she came bursting into the hospital wing, and after making sure I was ok, or at least on my way to being ok, she told me about her crying incident. I thought her story actually helped heal me a little. Because you know, laughter was supposed to be medicine or something. Or at least that was what muggles were always saying. So I laughed. A lot, to Denise's displeasure, and to Madam Pomfrey's, who came rushing to my side, scolding me for aggravating my stomach muscles by laughing so much. Just the image of Denise crying in Lupin's class because she was cramping and being called on brought a smile to my face.

So I was much better today…well, somewhat. Madam Pomfrey had mended the back of my head and my hip, somehow. She had given me some potion that knocked me out for several hours. When I woke up, she said she had fixed me. For all I knew, she could have opened me up and taken out my appendix…which I suppose would have been alright, considering it didn't really serve any purpose that I knew of. But anyway, I was fixed, but still in a bit of pain here and there, which she said would happen but should stop in a few days. She told me just to relax and not push myself, and recommended that I not go to Hogsmeade the next day, since apparently that counted as overexertion. Too much walking or something. When I told her I had a date, she simply sniffed in disapproval.

"Well, you'll be wishing you listened to me when you collapse on your date because you had been walking for too long, and your date no longer finds you sexy." She had said as she began making the bed next to mine.

I giggled and asked her to say that again; she glared at me and told me I was better and could leave. And so I did. I skipped transfiguration and went straight to my dormitory, thinking recklessly that if McGonagall asked where I was and I told her about my stairs incident, Professor Lupin would vouch for me, since I was sure he wouldn't know when specifically I was released from the hospital wing. I felt rather guilty about just _assuming_ that Lupin would save my butt from McGonagall. So guilty in fact that when I saw him last night on my way back from dinner, I hid behind some suits of armor so he wouldn't see me and approach me. It was immature, I knew. I shouldn't have avoided him. Hell, I needed to see him. Denise reminded me last night that I owed him a thank you. Hmm. Which reminded me…it was morning now, and Denise was supposed to remind me again about that. She always reminded me of those things…she transformed into Miss Manners like clockwork.

"Oh, by the way, Suzie…"

Ah. Here it comes.

"Make sure to say thank you to Lupin. I mean, he stopped you from falling down the whole flight of stairs! He saved your life!"

I smiled slightly. "Right. I know—"

"I mean, those are stone steps," she continued, "if you had fallen all the way down you probably would have cracked your skull open or something."

I nodded, proud of myself for having been able to predict Denise's behavior. But the moment of pride melted away quickly and was replaced by anxiousness at the idea of thanking Lupin.

I frowned at Denise. "Thank you is a bit overrated though, don't you think?" I asked. "I mean, going out of my way to thank him for saving my life…that seems so damsel-in-distress."

Denise rolled her eyes. "Well, you were a damsel in distress, weren't you? Anyway, don't try to get around your real concerns by pretending 'thank you' is overrated."

I looked innocently at her. "What are you talking about?"

"You're too fond of Lupin." She said simply as she picked up a piece of toast and bit into it. "And you're trying to mask it, like we said you should. You're trying to be all aloof about him so he doesn't get the wrong idea from you. But do you really think you can make him think you don't like him anymore by staying away from him?"

I frowned pensively. "Er…yes?"

"Oh, for God's sake…you were snuggling up to him when he was taking you up to the hospital wing!"

"I knew I should have left that part out of the story." I said with a sigh as I glanced at Denise, expecting to see an exasperated look on her face. Instead she was smiling broadly, and almost immediately we fell into a fit of giggles.

"Only you…" she said, still laughing. "I can actually imagine you, cozying up to him like that."

I grinned. "I was so surprised when he didn't brush off my advances."

"Well, he probably wasn't completely sure that they were advances. The poor man probably thought you were genuinely in pain."

Briefly reliving the moment Professor Lupin had inadvertently given me, I sighed.

"Oh, you're obsessed." Denise said, shaking her head. "That's why I can't see you successfully fooling Lupin."

"You have no faith in me?" I said, pouting.

"With everything else in life, I do…but not in this matter. Go. Thank him." Denise replied.

"Fine." I said with a sigh. "I'll stop by Honeydukes later on today to get him a little something, and then pay him a little _visit_"—I winked to put emphasis on the word—"to his office."

Denise rolled her eyes. "Yes, right after your date with Roger. You've got a busy day ahead of you then."

I grinned, looking down at my watch. I was going to meet Roger in a few minutes for our date. This was so exciting; it was Valentine's Day and Denise and I both had dates. I think this was a first. We usually spent Valentine's Day hanging out together, and if it was on a Hogsmeade day, we'd walk around the village holding hands, pretending we were a "modern couple" as Madam Rosmerta once put it when she saw us walking hand in hand. Wow. Those days were long gone now. We each had a man. I still couldn't wrap my mind around it…

"So…are you ready?" Denise asked excitedly. "You look great, by the way."

I glanced back at the Ravenclaw table where Roger was still eating breakfast. He was wearing jeans and a black v-neck sweater. "Thanks." I said, suddenly feeling nervous. "Seriously, thank you…I'm so glad you had me change."

Denise nodded, also watching Roger now. Yesterday Denise and I had settled on this pretty red suede skirt and white sweater to wear with boots. But this morning, Denise had gotten to the Great Hall before me, and upon seeing how Roger was dressed, immediately rushed back to our dorm to tell me that I needed to change my outfit because I would be too dressed up. As I watched Roger, I felt extremely thankful for Denise, as I would have looked too formal in my original outfit. She had made me change into a pair of jeans that were too tight on me ("You are not fat! They're _supposed_ to emphasize your butt like that!" Denise protested) and I kept the original sweater, which I had to admit made me feel rather sexy; it gave the impression that I actually had a bust. And as a final touch, I threw on my pink cap, scarf, and glove set that had little pixies all over them, arguing with Denise that it was cute and whimsical. She sighed and agreed, saying I was more or less like a pixie myself, which I took great offense to. Most people found them annoying, what with their being mischievous and kind of rude. But they were still so cute!

"Oh!" Denise squeaked, turning around to face me. "He got up; I think he'll be coming to meet you in a minute."

I glanced over my shoulder and saw that Roger had indeed gotten up and looked like he was going to head over to meet me. I turned back to Denise, smiling nervously.

"I think I'm going to throw up, Denise."

She grinned. "It'll pass in a few minutes, don't worry. Oh, and Vince is coming again to meet me, so I probably won't see you until dinner."

"Ahem."

Denise and I glanced up to find Roger standing behind us.

"Hello, ladies." He said, "Sorry to have interrupted."

"No, it's alright." Denise said, grinning. "We're all done. You can have her now."

I rolled my eyes and smiled at Denise as I got up and grabbed my coat. "See you tonight."

Denise merely grinned in response. Oh, she's being smug. What the hell does she have to be smug about?

"Those jeans are really working for you, by the way." Roger said as he offered me his arm, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

An "Oh!" was all I managed to get out as I felt myself blushing furiously. Ignoring Denise's giggles in the background, I took Roger's arm and let him lead me out of the Great Hall.

"Yeah, and they're working for me too." He added.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, my friend." I replied. Oh. Stupid. That'll only provoke it even more…

Roger grinned. "Well, that's very encouraging."

I was starting to believe that his mind never tired—which could have been fun—or tiring. I suppose only a little more time with him would tell. Let the dating commence.

* * *

I brushed confetti off my shoulders. Again.

We had been sitting in Madam Pudifoot's for five minutes and already I was sick of the place. I had heard a lot about it (mainly from Denise, as she had a bit more dating experience than me) and it always sounded awful to me. But wow. I hadn't pictured it to be _this_ disgusting. The frills and lace everywhere was just obnoxious, to the point of being a bit suffocating. I smiled though as Madam Pudifoot herself came to our table with a tea tray.

"Here you go, dears." She said as she placed a small porcelain teapot between Roger and me along with two of the tiniest teacups I had ever seen on each of our sides. As she placed the sugar and milk in front of us, she picked up her tray and added, "Your scones are on the way."

Well, for a ridiculously tacky teashop, at least the tea was good. I had mine made with peppermint and Roger had his with vanilla. We sat in silence for a few moments, each sipping on our tea. I glanced around the place, which was particularly crowded, what with the Valentine festivities and all. There were couples everywhere; Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater were a few tables away from us, as were Cedric Diggory and his date—some fifth year Gryffindor whose name I couldn't remember. Cho Chang had just strolled in through the door arm-in-arm with one of her fellow Ravenclaws.

Roger was now talking about the quidditch season at Hogwarts and who had a better shot at winning in the final match, Gryffindor or Slytherin. I tried listening, I really did. But for the most part, I wasn't following. Ok. Except when he occasionally brought in Oliver's name, I was ashamed to admit that my ears perked up considerably. Apparently, Roger actually admired Oliver's work ethic when it came to quidditch.

"Remember at that match against your house where those dementors came and Harry got thrown off? Cedric had insisted on doing it over, that it wasn't Harry's fault, but Oliver had let them have the win. I personally sided with Cedric. I mean, those dementors were an interference and their presence should have made Cedric's catching the snitch not count. They probably could have done that play over if Oliver had asked for it, but he didn't. He really likes to play fair and square. I doubt he's ever been even tempted to play dirty, and I respect that about him." Roger finished solemnly.

I simply nodded, not really knowing what to say.

"He's got a nice broomstick too." Roger continued. "I mean, it's got nothing on Harry's, but—what?"

I had been trying not to laugh. I bit down on my bottom lip to suppress it…but alas. I had no self-control.

"What's so funny?" he asked. But before I could even tell him it was nothing, a look of understanding spread over his face, and he rolled his eyes at me. "I swear…what's with you girls and broomsticks?"

"What's with you guys and bludgers?" I countered, smiling.

His jaw dropped slightly.

I shrugged, still smiling. "I've read a few manly magazines."

Roger grinned. "Really? I have to admit, I've read a few womanly magainzes myself—I mean, out of curiousity—I've looked at _Playwitch_ a few times."

I sniggered. "Even I haven't read that."

"Well," Roger said with a laugh, "it seems we've really found each other, Ms. Hennessey. Oh, and bludgers are code for a myriad of things, just so you know." He added with a grin.

"I know that too." I replied airily. I mean, had he any idea who I was? My entire life has been training for conversations like these…

Madam Pudifoot had brought us our scones, and we continued to talk about dirty magazines, segueing into magazines in general, and then further segueing into a discussion about my career goals in writing.

"I actually haven't heard from the _Daily Prophet_ yet," I explained when he asked me how my interview at the coffee shop went where he saw me. "Haven't really heard from anyone yet, actually." I added. I always felt a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach when I told that lie to people. Cedric had asked once casually. So did Professor McGonagall and Sprout. Lupin had a couple of times, and I almost wanted to break down and tell him about my rejections. But the idea of Lupin pitying me, seeing me as some pathetic, weak girl who couldn't even find a job—he wouldn't have been surprised anyway. I was in his class, after all, and he probably would have thought, _well, it figures…she doesn't work hard, she's not serious, she's not even that smart_… Just the idea of me crying over my failures while an unsurprised Lupin pat me sympathetically on the shoulder was enough to make me want to shudder.

"So," I said quickly, smiling at Roger, "what about you? Do you know what you want to do with your life?"

"Well, I'm hoping to be a healer some day." Roger said, pouring himself some more tea. "But that's pretty contingent on me doing well in potions. I'm fine right now; it's always been one of my best subjects…but I guess I won't know until after the OWLs if I'll get to continue with it."

Huh. The OWL exams. Wow. Those seemed like ages ago for me. And it was weird now, because suddenly I was just very aware of how young Roger really was; he was getting ready to take his OWLs: a set of exams I took two years ago. Two years. Well, that wasn't really a big age difference, was it?

"So, anyway…hey, I heard this morning that you got into a little accident…fell down the stairs or something. Is that true?" Roger asked, frowning at me slightly with concern.

"Well, yes—"

Roger's brow wrinkled. "Are you hurt? Why didn't you say anything to me? Are you in pain or anything right now?"

I laughed a little. "I'm fine. It actually happened after I saw you yesterday, when you left me with Lupin. I sort of backed down the stairs and then fell."

Roger made a small hissing sound. "Those steps are stone!"

I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant about it, though I suppose there's no real way to be nonchalant about falling down a flight of stairs. "Lupin threw out a spell to catch me before I fell down all the way…but I was in the hospital wing yesterday."

Roger nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I was wondering where you were. I had been looking for you, actually. But…so you're ok now?"

"Pretty much. I have some pains here and there on occasion, so we'll need to take it easy today, if you don't mind." I replied.

"Alright." Roger said with a wink. "So nothing too kinky. Got it."

I rolled my eyes at him.

"Where are you getting your pains?"

"My hip. I kind of fell on it, so…"

"Oh. Ok." Roger said with a sigh. "Well, that kind of puts a damper on the plans I had for us."

"Roger!"

"Joke, woman, joke!" he exclaimed with a laugh. "Anyway, I know you're not that easy."

"You _know_?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him, suddenly feeling slightly awkward about where this conversation was heading. "Do you have like a tramp detector or something?"

Roger laughed again. "Something like that, yes. It's a gift, really."

I rolled my eyes at him. "I think it's hardly a gift. Usually those things are pretty obvious. Trampy girls usually _look_ a little trampy."

"Ah, that's where you're wrong, little grasshopper," Roger said sagely. "I knew this one girl—quietest little thing on earth, never showed an inch of skin above her knees—and she went on a date with one of my mates and was all over him by the end of the night…he had to fend her off, trying to convince her that he was waiting until he married to shag…"

"Oh."

I took a sip of tea, grinning into my cup. I really didn't know what else to say to his little anecdote.

"So you see, grasshopper—"

"Stop calling me grasshopper." I interjected, frowning at him.

"But it's cute! And so appropriate if you're going to be my disciple."

"Your disciple?" I asked with a small laugh, "What have I got to learn from you?"

Roger glared at me in mock anger. "Plenty! I may be young in years, but I have things to share, like this experience of my friend's that I was telling you about. See, the moral of the story was that trampy girls sometimes have cherubic exteriors. Seriously, this girl looked like she could have belonged on top of a Christmas tree."

I nodded, smiling at him cautiously. "Right. That's an important lesson to bear in mind."

"You doubt my knowledge?" Roger asked with a frown as he leaned forward.

"Absolutely not!" I said, grinning. "You are a pool of knowledge when it comes to women, I'm sure."

Roger sighed. "You don't sound sincere."

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Roger said with a grin, still leaning forward, "on the upside, you're very pretty when you cast doubtful looks at me. Something about that superior look of yours that sends me through the roof..."

I felt myself blush. Averting my gaze from Roger, I shifted my glance to the sugar bowl in front of me. "You're satisfied easily then."

"Quite the contrary."

He was leaning in even more, and it took me a few moments to realize he wanted to kiss me. Oh God. Here? In a public place? But there were people! People we knew! Ew! That's sick! And just…ok hold on. When did I become a prude?

Ignoring the uneasy feeling in my stomach, I leaned forward a little and allowed him to kiss me. His mouth tasted very vanilla-y. I wasn't sure how I felt about that, as I wasn't really a big fan of vanilla. And then I began to wonder if it was at all normal to ponder about these things when you were kissing a really pretty guy in a really romantic restaurant on Valentine's Day. It seemed kind of wrong…

I pulled away after a few moments, trying to catch my breath. Before I could so much as exhale, Roger had already begun to lean in again. Without thinking, I immediately backed away.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, his eyes opening fully to look at me questioningly.

I glanced around nervously, wondering if anyone had seen us. Penelope and Percy were holding hands across the table, grinning rather stupidly at each other as they spoke. Cho Chang was giggling at something her date had said. Cedric's date had moved her chair over to be closer to him and was currently running a hand through his hair, which actually made me want to gag. Cedric actually had very nice hair, but it was kind of gross to watch other girls touching it. Yeah, it was probably that whole brotherly-sisterly thing we had going that made it so disgusting to watch…

I shifted my glance back to Roger and smiled weakly. "No…nothing's wrong. I just—well, I don't know. It seems kind of weird…kissing here, you know?"

Roger frowned slightly. "Er…not quite."

I sighed. "There's people everywhere and I don't know…I feel kind of self-conscious."

Roger smiled slightly. "Why? You're a good kisser!"

I should have laughed, waving a nonchalant hand or something. But I didn't. Being the idiot I was, I let out a small gasp and grinned, and said, "Am I really?"

"Yes, really." Roger replied with a laugh. "Does that make you feel better? Can we continue?"

I laughed as well, and was about to ask about relocating or something before we continued, but before I could even form the words, a couple of figures behind Roger caught my eye and caused me to forget what I wanted to say. Oliver and Madeline-Slutty-Long-Legs-Johnson were at the table right behind Roger, and Oliver had glanced up, meeting my eyes.

I immediately shifted my gaze back to Roger and smiled. "Er…ok. Yes, let's continue. I was just being silly…sorry."

* * *

I was a horrible woman. All these years I had been taking oxygen for granted, not appreciating its true life-giving, life-preserving traits. Not until today. Today I finally came to realize just how important oxygen was to our general well-being. I finally came to recognize oxygen for its true beauty. I wasn't sure if Roger had though. Actually, I was quite sure he wasn't even aware of the fact that humans needed oxygen to breathe, and thus, survive. I pointed this out to him, and he merely threw back his head a little and laughed. I rolled my eyes at him, watching as he ran a hand through his hair. Sigh. So floppy, I wanted to touch it. Oh, but I could! I was the girlfriend now…I had dibs over things like floppy-hair-touching, didn't I?

"I think oxygen is a conspiracy theory," Roger said quietly as he kissed me again. "They want you to _think_ you need oxygen to survive, so you spend less time snogging and more time…I don't know, studying."

I sniggered as I pulled away again for air. "So 'they' must be Dumbledore? McGonagall?"

"Yes, the entire staff is out to stomp out all the snogging. They want us to become studious academic machines with a sexless existence."

Roger grinned, and I couldn't help but sigh; he had such a cute, boyish smile. Oh, I couldn't resist. I reached forward and ran a hand through his hair.

"So pretty—" I started with a very immature giggle, but was immediately cut off when Roger pulled back a little so my hand slid down his cheek and landed on his mouth, which I had a feeling was intentional on his part.

He took my hand and kissed it. Rather instinctively, I pulled my hand back. Oh gosh. I was such a spaz. He was trying to be cute and here I was, spazzing and being a prude! I laughed a little as I tucked my hand safely under the table, hoping he wasn't offended.

"You're very…kissy." I managed to get out. Kissy? Was that even a word?

"Kissy?"

Nope, definitely not a word.

"Er…what I meant was…"

I didn't really know what I meant. We were sitting in a revoltingly romantic restaurant, surrounded by couples who were doing what we were doing (including Oliver and Madeline, who were actually making sickening puckering noises when they kissed…all probably Madeline's doing…Denise told me once that Madeline was just a really loud kisser). Why couldn't I get into it?

"You're not comfortable with this, are you?" Roger asked with a small smile.

"Well…" Gosh. I felt like a three year old who was being coaxed into jumping into the deep end of a swimming pool when I didn't know how to swim…

"The public snogging, or snogging in general?"

"I…I don't know. Generally, I guess. It's just weird. I thought we'd talk first or something…you know, get to know each other a bit or something?"

Roger fell back in his seat. Though he laughed, he looked slightly defeated. Probably disheartened at the idea of not being able to continue doing what he did best…

"Alright…erm…what do you want to know then?"

I shrugged. Oh God. I killed the date, didn't I? It was going to be all awkward and downhill from here, wasn't it? We were going to spend the rest of the afternoon talking about our lives, and at some point, one of us would become so desperate to salvage the date that we'd ask the other what his or my favorite color was. And I didn't even have a favorite color, so I was definitely in trouble…

"I don't know…" I said, laughing awkwardly. Oh, someone just _Avada Kedavra_ me right now…

"You want to get out of here?" he asked, glancing around. "Maybe walk around the village for a bit instead?"

"Great idea." I mumbled as I dropped my napkin onto the table. Maybe a little change in setting would make things easier…

* * *

And things just kept getting worse.

We hadn't been outside for five seconds when I walked over some icy ground and slipped and fell. I let out a small cry as I landed on my butt, as the fall only further aggravated the pain in my hip. Laughing, Roger helped me up and asked if I was ok. Feeling myself go beet red, I mumbled a yes as I pulled out my wand to clean the snowy dirt off my bum.

Sadly though, that wasn't all. After spending a few minutes laughing at my tendency to fall, we fell into silence. My mind was racing; I was wracking my brains trying to think of something interesting to say. Something about quidditch? But I knew nothing about quidditch, and we already discussed that subject earlier at Madam Pudifoot's. School? No, we already covered that too. What else was there to talk about with guys? Ok, what did I talk about with Cedric? Quidditch, school, our families…oh, families!

"So…Roger, I don't know anything about your background." I said quickly, "Do you have any siblings?"

"Nah, I'm an only child."

"Oh."

"You?"

"Er…I have an older sister. She married a few years ago though, so I don't see much of her anymore."

Roger nodded, looking at me with mild interest, or feigned interest, perhaps. The latter was quite likely, actually. I was miserably bored just telling him about my sister.

"Does she have any kids?"

"Nope. Not yet. Not ever, probably. She hates kids." I said with a small laugh. I just had this image of my sister holding up a crying baby like it was some kind of explosive or something. This was probably the most random time to have this thought, but I actually found myself missing my sister at this moment. She was much better at dating than I was. Well, duh. She was married. She had to have had some skill with men if she had been able to reel one in and keep him. For a moment I tried imagining myself married…but I couldn't. The image of Oliver briefly came to mind, but I immediately shut it out with a pang of guilt. I wasn't supposed to be thinking of him that way. So I tried not to. And that was why I couldn't imagine myself married. There wasn't really anyone to picture myself with. Roger? God no. With our genes mixed, we would probably give birth to future sex offenders or something…

Silence again. God. This has got to be the worst possible first date ever. I mean, we were doing alright in the beginning, flirting and snogging and whatnot…but now I've ruined it. _Why_ did I have to clam up about kissing in a restaurant? It's not a big deal…everyone does it! Maybe I could still salvage the date…yes! I could just throw him against the walls of one of these stores we're passing by and just start kissing him. He'd appreciate that…

Only I had too much dignity to throw myself at him. Ok. So I didn't have that much dignity (I mean, I was the eighteen year old, soon-to-be unemployed-because-no-one-will-bloody-hire-me virgin who can't actually get with guys I truly want to get with), but I did have enough dignity to not appear desperate. I suppose I had to just bite the bullet, and let the awkwardness pass over. It always did, right?

Only it didn't.

We had walked on for several more minutes in silence, occasionally stopping by at random store windows to make comments about various things on sale. I thought we had a fighting chance when Roger pulled me inside the quidditch supplies store. Quidditch…a subject he was definitely interested in. So maybe I wasn't…I could have still carried a conversation about it! Oh, how wrong I was though…

We were looking at different brooms that were on showcase. So I obviously wasn't an expert on brooms, but I did know a thing or two, having an uncle who was in the business…and having an object of stalking and lust for a couple of years now, I had definitely taken to picking up some tidbits about brooms, and did know the good ones from the bad ones. I happened to be running my hand along one of the bad ones, or so I thought was a bad one. The new Shooting Star. It was quite ugly, and had absolutely nothing on the sleek finishes of the new Firebolt, or even the Nimbus 2001. Hell, even the line of Comets were more promising that the new Shooting Star. I was quite proud of myself for being able to hold such a solid opinion on broomsticks, so I told Roger all of this. I even went on to tell him a few jokes my uncle once told me about using Shooting Stars for sweeping rather than flying. Ah, so witty, so funny…I really thought I had saved our date—that is, til I realized Roger didn't look very amused.

See, it turned out he actually owned one of those Shooting Stars…

God, I can't even go on about the rest of the date. It just went downhill from there. Not that it was already going downhill before that. But I had really hit rock bottom. Or at least I thought I had. We had both tried to laugh it off, and it looked like we were heading from "just kill me now" awkward to just plain old awkward…but then I had to say something along the lines of "That's actually a compliment, because that means you must be one hell of a flyer if your broom is so sucky!"

I don't think that helped the situation.

After another hour of some very forced window shopping, we ended up calling it a day. Roger said he had promised to meet some friends later on. He invited me to come along, but I passed, feeling that I needed some time to wallow in my pathetic stupidity. Plus, I had a feeling he was just trying to be nice. Although when we did part, he kissed me on the mouth and told me he'd see me later. So…I suppose that was a good thing, right? I mean, if he really weren't interested, he could have kissed me on the cheek, or not kissed me at all. But then again, it wasn't exactly a meaningful kiss. When we had been snogging back in Madam Pudifoot's, _that _had been meaningful. I knew—I had encouraged quite a bit of it. I couldn't help but frown though as I thought back to our earlier snogging session…I hated to admit it even to myself, but I knew I had only encouraged it because Oliver had been there.

He probably didn't even notice—I mean, he and Madeline had been pretty busy sucking the air out of one another—but I couldn't help but think that if he had looked up, even for a moment, I wanted him to see me enjoying myself. I didn't want him to think I was still hung up on him or something…though the simple fact that I was on a date probably assured him of just that…

* * *

Knowing that Denise was probably still out with Vince, and that getting Professor Lupin a box of chocolates from Honeydukes definitely seemed like too much for simply taking me up to the hospital wing (ok, and saving my life) since he would have probably thought that I was still smitten with him, I decided to just go visit him in his office empty-handed.

I quickened my pace as I headed out of Honeydukes with a bag of assorted candies for myself. I pulled a lime-colored toffee out of the bag and began to unwrap it. As I popped it into my mouth, I stuffed the remaining candy into my purse for later, deciding that tonight I would hole myself up in the dormitory and just binge on all the candy I had bought. Half-wishing that Denise was single so she could revel with me in this Anti-Valentine's Day mood of mine, I didn't take notice as I turned the corner of the street and bumped into someone, knocking them down. Oh dear.

"Déjà vu…" Oliver grunted as he brushed his hands against each other to wipe the mixture of snow and dirt he had landed on.

Realizing he was smiling slightly, I let out a small sigh as I extended a hand out to him to help him up. "Sorry about that…I was just hurrying, and was mentally elsewhere—"

He took my hand and pulled himself up. "So what else is new? You're a bloody brisk walker, Hennessy, I never thought you capable of knocking me down."

I smiled slightly. "I just wanted to get back to the castle before everyone else got back…what about you? Where're you heading?"

"Ah, I was heading there as well," he replied. "I have a lot of homework left to do."

I could feel my heart racing the way it always did when I knew Oliver and I were going to share a walk together. God, I loved moments like these…oh! Except I can't. I have Roger, damnit. Or do I? Sigh. Great. A love triangle. Except it's just me liking two guys, neither of whom like me back as much as they ought to. So I suppose that's not really a triangle…more of…er…an angle?

"So…you must be busy too, eh?" Oliver asked.

"Huh?"

"I mean…you're obviously cutting your date short too, aren't you?" he said, smiling wryly.

"Oh!"

Now of all moments I just had to become monosyllabic. Great. And to make matters worse, I could feel my cheeks growing warm.

"Yeah, Roger and I cut our date short." I said airily, hoping he wouldn't have to catch on to the fact that it was really Roger who had cut the date short. I was going to casually ask him how he knew about our date, but immediately stopped myself when I remembered he and I had made eye contact at Madam Pudifoot's. He _knew_ that I knew that he knew…or something like that.

"So…you saw us at Madam Pudifoot's then?" I asked. "I think I saw you and Madeline there…"

Oliver nodded. "Yeah, we were there…we were one table over, actually. I thought to stop and say hi on my way to the restroom, but you two looked pretty..erm…busy." he continued with a snigger, "I have to say, I was a bit amused, and surprised…"

I glared at him. "I'm sorry, how is that funny? Yours and Madeline's kissing was actually _audible_, if you're interested in knowing, so I wouldn't be too hasty about making fun of my snogging…"

Oliver's laughter only increased. Damn him and his cute laughter.

"No, I meant I was just amused at seeing the two of you together…I mean, I guess there's no accounting for tastes, eh?"

"On his part or my part?" I asked quickly, trying to decide who he was likelier to insult.

Oliver shrugged. "Both, I suppose."

Oh, that's just dandy.

"I mean…really, the Ravenclaw captain?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at me very sexily.

I shrugged, looking at him appraisingly because I honestly wasn't quite sure of what to do with that. "So? You're the Gryffindor captain…what the hell is wrong with Madeline?"

Surprisingly, we both laughed a little. But Oliver continued again, "Well, I did beat him in our last match."

"Actually, I think your team beat his team. Or if you really want to give credit to particular people, I think Harry beat Cho in that last match." I said, grinning shrewdly. I was actually feeling quite proud of myself. I had been talking about quidditch for about fifteen seconds now with Oliver Wood, and I hadn't said anything too stupid yet.

Oliver glared at me, and for some reason that gave me a nice, glowing feeling in the pit of my stomach. "Well, whatever," he said gruffly, "we beat his team…all we need to do is beat out Slytherin to win the cup. You're going to root for us, I'm assuming…"

I grinned. "I don't know…Marcus Flint it awfully sexy; I think I might be going for Slytherin."

But just as the words came out of my mouth, the image of the greasy haired Marcus who greatly resembled a cross between a vulture and a rabbit being "sexy" made me shudder. Visibly too, because Oliver laughed at me.

"Not all younger boys are sexy, eh Suzie?" He said with a grin.

My mouth fell open slightly. I could have hit him. However, being the monosyllabic moron I was, all I could get out was a "what?"

"I mean, I know young Roger's a pretty boy, and perhaps you're attracted to the fact that he's younger, but you definitely don't want to jump to the conclusion that all boys his age are as yummy as he is."

I was torn between slapping Oliver and snorting. Did he just refer to Roger as a pretty boy? As _yummy_?

Resisting the urge to hit him once again, I simply grinned. "I've never really thought of him as yummy, per say…but I'll pass on the message to him. I'm sure he'll be flattered, if it's coming from you and all."

Oliver glared at me. "So how was it anyway?"

"How was what?"

He rolled his eyes at me. Oh! I sniggered. I can be so dense sometimes…

"You date?" Oliver asked, with a slight note of impatience in his voice. "Did you guys just start going out?"

I nodded. "Yeah, that was our first date. It was fun." I lied. Well, it wasn't a complete lie. I mean, the beginning was quite fun, and Roger was very cute and pervy—though occasionally to the point of making me slightly uncomfortable. But whatever. Oliver didn't have to know the details. He certainly wasn't interested in the details either, I was sure.

There were a few moments in silence, so I hastily thought of something to say. "I hated Madam Pudifoot's though. It was my first time there…revolting place."

Oliver grinned. "I'm with you on that."

I sniggered. "Then why did you go there? I've honestly never taken you as a Madam Pudifoot's type of guy."

"I'm not," Oliver replied with a shrug, "but Madeline likes the place"—(I figured as much; that tramp has horrible taste)—"plus it seemed like a Valentine's Day sort of place to go."

"Ah, right."

We walked along in silence a bit longer, where the only sound that could be heard was the hustle and bustle in the village behind us, and the sound of our feet trudging through the snow. Oh, I should really go out and get myself a damn crown for being the queen of awkwardness. Seriously. _Every_ time! How is it always so awkward with me and guys? God. Ok. I need to think of something to say…Oh!

"Hey Oliver…"

"Yeah?"

"Shooting Star…what do you think of it?"

"Ruddy piece of shit."

I grinned. "That's what I thought."

"Your boyfriend rides one, did you know that?"

I cocked and eyebrow at him, still grinning. "Do you like, keep stats on every single quidditch player in the school?"

He glared at me in response. "It's not like I went out and stalked him. I recognize all the makes of the brooms when we're out playing on the pitch. No biggie. Why were you asking about it anyway? Was he bragging about it to you or something?" he asked with a decidedly self-important note in his voice.

I rolled my eyes. "I _just_ agreed with you when you said it was a ruddy piece of shit."

"I know, but was he bragging about it or something? Is that why you brought it up?"

"No…that was just a tiny sore point in the date," I said, smiling slightly as I was now a bit amused when I looked back on the awkward experience with Roger, "we were in the quidditch supply store checking out brooms, and I saw the Shooting Star and started criticizing it…but I didn't know he owned one until I cracked a few jokes my uncle—"

Oliver laughed. "Jack? I've heard those Shooting Star jokes your uncle's told. He's a funny guy. So you criticized it?"

"Yeah…"

Oliver looked how I always imagined people to look when they orgasm. "You talked smack about his broom? Aw, Suzie…you _never_ talk smack about a guy's broom! Really, it's like, our manhood—"

I cut Oliver off, bursting into a fit of giggles. Just hearing him say the word 'manhood' was enough to make me not care about my inability to carry a successful date.

"What?" he asked earnestly. I swear, his obliviousness makes him even cuter—er—I mean, you know, in the adorable, non-attractive way…

"Nothing," I said, grinning, "Your broom is your manhood—got it."

And suddenly the look of understanding came. He rolled his eyes at me and muttered, "Perv."

He then began a sermon on describing the different makes of broomsticks and how to distinguish good ones from the bad ones.

"…I mean, the Shooting Star's flaws, for example, are blatantly obvious…I mean, even a complete amateur can see how shitty it is. But you know, in other makes, like the Comet 260 for example, they look nice, but they've definitely got some major defects…"

He droned on the rest of the walk to Hogwarts, so I listened silently. Well, ok…I wasn't really paying attention. I mean, I was looking up at him, nodding in agreement every so often, but I was more focused on studying his features than listening to him. We already know he's got really nice eyebrows, and nice eyes too…for a tough, burly looking guy like himself, he has very soft-looking eyes. And his lips…_God_, his lips. They're so nice and full…I mean not like a girl, but just so luscious and…yum.

"…anyways, the entire Gryffindor house is all riled up for the final match against Slytherin. I really think this is going to be our year. It _has_ to be our year."

I glanced sideways at Oliver as he made this final statement. He looked so damn solemn. Aw, cutie…

"I think it's going to be your year too." I agreed, smiling slightly at him. And all at once, I wondered if it was a mistake to sound all girlfriendy and supportive like that. He tensed up slightly, and the dreamy look from his face vanished.

"Yeah." He said gruffly. "I think my parents might be coming to the match…or at least my dad. He's really into quidditch."

"Yeah?" I asked. I felt my heart beginning to race. His parents—particularly his dad—was a weird subject with Oliver.

Oliver nodded. "Definitely. I mean, I only got into it because of him. He gave me my first broom when I was six. It was a toy, of course…a Pluto 64…I still have it."

I couldn't help but smile. "That's cute."

He rolled his eyes at me as we reached the castle. "You're the first person I've ever told that little fact to, and I'm reminded as to why I've always kept that information to myself."

I laughed, though inside my heart was going a million beats a minute. He had confided in me? Oliver Wood just confided one of his deepest, darkest secrets in me, and I simply called it 'cute'? What the hell is wrong with me? I mean, alright, it probably wasn't his deepest, darkest secret, per say…but still. He's never told anyone about him still having his Pluto 64…I should have treated that information with greater respect…it's what he wanted, obviously.

"Really though," I started, trying to sound serious. "I think it's sweet that you still keep it. I'm sure your dad's awfully proud of you. I mean, you've been captain of the Gryffindor team for a few years now…and you know, you've been on the team since you first tried out, back in second year, right?"

Oliver nodded slowly, his countenance darkening a little. I had a feeling I was treading dangerous waters now, for some odd reason…

"Well, you're an awesome player. It's a fact. I mean, you're like, the poster boy for Hogwarts quidditch, and you have been for a few years. That's a huge accomplishment, so I reckon your parents are really proud of you for that." I said, making sure to say 'parents' instead of 'dad.' I had a feeling Oliver might burst at me for saying the slightest thing about his father, neutral or not, and I really wanted to avoid another row with Oliver.

He simply shrugged though as he reached for the door and held it open for me. "Thanks. It's just that…I don't know…I won't feel truly accomplished if I don't win that bloody cup. I mean, I want to go on and play professionally…how can I? Who's going to want me if I haven't even won a championship in my own school? Everyone in the professional leagues has won at least once when they were playing in school."

A part of me really wanted to reach over and hug Oliver, or at least pat him on the shoulder. However, it somehow didn't seem appropriate…it almost seemed like I'd be violating him if I did. So I merely smiled at him instead. "You'll win this championship, Oliver. I mean, seriously…it's Slytherin. They're a bunch of gits."

"A conniving bunch of gits." Oliver sighed. "If winning against them was based on pure talent, we'd have it in the bag. But unfortunately, you can count on them to be ready to play dirty. I mean, they have in the past…who's to say they won't again?"

I sighed, slightly frustrated. God. Why does he have to be so damn insecure? He's a phenomenal flyer, captain and keeper. He and his team have almost never lost a match. They've just had rotten luck in the past. He _has_ to know that they'll win. And as much as I love my house, I _know_ he's got the best bloody team in the school.

And in an exasperated tone, I told him all of this, and added that if he kept acting all pathetic and dejected about a match he was definitely going to win, I'd hex him. He merely blushed in response.

He thanked me for my vote of confidence as we reached the staircase that was our usual parting of the ways, and then hurried off, saying he wanted to get cleaned up before dinner.

Huh. But we left early from Hogsmeade…it wasn't quite dinner time yet, was it? I checked my watch. It was four-bloody-thirty. Why was he in such a hurry to 'get cleaned up' for dinner? And why on earth would he use such a girly phrase like that? Or—at least I thought it was a girly thing to say. Anyway, I thought he was coming back early to do some homework. Well, at least that's what he said when he ran into me….oh wait. Hold the damn floo…

He ran into me. We were going in opposite directions…he couldn't have been heading towards Hogwarts too, as he had claimed. I walked in a bit of haze the rest of the way to the Hufflepuff common room as I considered the possibility of Oliver lying to me back in Hogsmeade…

* * *

After waiting several minutes for Denise to appear by my side after her date with Vince, I finally tucked in for dinner. Where on earth was she? I was dying to tell someone about my date and about my run-in with Oliver! Cedric had casually asked me about Roger a few moments ago, sniggering as he told me he had seen the two of us at Madam Pudifoot's. Cheeky little sod. Said he never took me to be a cradle-snatcher…

After telling Cedric to go shag Professor Snape (apparently that only amused him further), I ate the rest of my dinner in silence, glancing up every now and then for signs of Denise. As it went though, I finished my dinner in about ten minute and ended up heading back to the Hufflepuff common room, deciding to just wait for her there. Maybe she had eaten a lot with Vince and just wasn't hungry for dinner…

She wasn't in the common room though. Madeline, however, was. She was sitting in my favorite sofa near the fire, stretching out her long legs across all of the seats as she read the latest copy of _Witch Weekly_. Geez. Not only is she slutty for not even bothering to cross her legs, but she's so unbelievably selfish, taking up the whole damn couch for herself! Forget it. I wasn't about to sit and wait for Denise in _here_.

* * *

My eyes snapped open, and I realized I was still lying on my bed. What time was it? I sat up and glanced around the room. Madeline there, sitting in her own bed, trying to finish some homework. I glanced back at my nightstand and saw that the clock read 12:00. I had fallen asleep for a few hours while waiting for Denise, and had had one of the strangest dreams. I was Lucius Malfoy's hairdresser, and I was at the Ministry of Magic, over in my dad's cubicle, doing Malfoy's hair. I was tying it in a ponytail with a pink ribbon when he turned around and told me I was fired because I trimmed too much of his hair. I got upset, because of course, I hadn't cut his hair! I had simply blow-dried it, brushed it and tied it up…I knew not to mess with a pair of scissors! I was just really upset, and then I woke up…

"Bloody Malfoy…" I muttered as I rolled out of bed to get a view of Denise's bed.

She wasn't there.

I blinked for a few seconds, trying to remember what time it was. Damn. Midnight. Holy—she wasn't here? She never came up??

"Madeline?"

"Mmm?"

I glanced over at Madeline, who wasn't even looking up from her work. "Did Denise ever come into the dormitory?"

"Er…no, I don't think so." She replied, still not looking up.

"You sure? I mean…have you been up for a while?"

Madeline finally looked away from her books to simply roll her eyes at me. "I've been sitting here studying for a few hours now, and no, she never came up."

Great.

"Hey, Suzie? Have you done your Defense Against the Dark Arts homework yet?"

I snapped my head back up at Madeline. "What?"

"Yeah, I'm kind of stuck on the essay Lupin assigned us. I totally don't understand—hey, where are you going?"

Fighting the urge to punch Madeline for being a thickheaded bimbo, I had grabbed my wand from my nightstand and was putting on my shoes.

"I need to find Denise."

"But—it's after hours!" Madeline replied, putting her quill down and looking at me very confusedly.

"I'm aware of that."

"But—"

I never heard what Madeline had to say, as I was already out the door.

* * *

I tiptoed down to the common room, praying silently that Denise was there, and perhaps had fallen asleep in one of the chairs while reading a book or something. But the common room was empty. Oh this was just fan-bloody-tastic. What the hell was I supposed to do now? I could've gone and told Professor Sprout…yes! Wait, no! Not yet. I mean, just in case…I didn't want to get Denise in trouble if she wasn't really in danger…but then…how did I know if she was in danger or not? I mean, last I knew of her she was off on a date with Vince. Oh! Wake up Ernie…oh God, no…what the hell was wrong with me? No, ok. Professor Sprout was the best option. But not yet. I'd sit here and wait for a bit, just in case she turned up. Then…I don't know…I could walk around the castle a bit and look for her…I mean, maybe Denise was just…I don't know, off being reckless? But that wasn't Denise. She was never reckless.

After waiting in the common room silently for about five minutes, I tapped my wand over my head and disillusioned myself, and headed out of the common room. I'd search the castle for a bit, and then go wake up Professor Sprout if I had no luck. And hell, if I got caught, I had a legitimate excuse for being out of bed, didn't I? I could tell whoever caught me that I was just worried about Denise, and he or she could just help me find her. Though the sudden image of me pleading with the likes of Filch made me feel slightly wary about this plan…the image of running into Snape also conjured similar feelings…

I had scouted the entire floor, and had quietly hurried up the steps to the next floor. There were some classrooms on this floor, Professor Binns's office, and a few other random and complicated passageways that I was admittedly too scared to go into by myself. Denise would never voluntarily go in any of those areas, I reckoned. But then, Denise would never have stayed out past our curfew voluntarily either, would she?

"Fuck." I breathed as I ducked into an empty classroom to avoid the approaching Peeves. He had been hovering down the hall, humming to himself, and I was sure as hell he wouldn't be likely to help me in my search for Denise, and would be more likely to blow my cover and get me into a shitload of trouble with Filch.

"We Wittle Peevsey, runs through the town...Upstairs and downstairs in his nightgown…." He sang quietly as he headed towards the staircase.

I could feel might heart pounding as I sighed with relief. I waited a few more minutes to make sure he was completely out of sight before emerging from the classroom. The was another flight of stairs that led to the floor on which Lupin's office was. As I hurried up the stairs, I briefly considered going to him for help. He probably wouldn't punish me at least, though I wondered how he would have reacted if it turned out Denise wasn't in any danger and was just being irresponsible.

As I reached the landing, I glanced down at myself to make sure I was still disillusioned. It wasn't the best cover-up as people could still see you if they looked carefully, but it was the best I could do. I made a right, deciding to pass Lupin's office and maybe pause to listen for any signs of him being awake, but just as I came to be only a few feet from his office door, a light from around the corner shone. I instinctively backed away, and by the time I had taken refuge in the nearest classroom, I began to hear footsteps approaching as well. I held my breath, waiting for Filch to pass. But he didn't.

Instead, I heard him knock on Lupin's door.

"Please come in." came Lupin's soft voice.

The door creaked open and shut a moment later. I exhaled and peered into the hall. There was a distinctly familiar odor now in the hallway, mostly lingering at the entrance of Lupin's office.

"Thank you, Severus." I heard Lupin say quietly.

Ah.

Wait. Snape? Didn't they like, hate each other or something? What on earth were they doing, paying each other nighttime visits?

"I will be back tomorrow, probably at the same time." Snape said in a decidedly cold voice.

There was a brief pause, and Lupin went on to say, "I appreciate that. I am grateful for your services, Severus."

_Services?_

Before I could begin to even dwell on that, I heard what were probably Snape's footsteps again, so I proceeded to duck back into the classroom and waited for him to get out of the vicinity. Services? What—the—bloody—hell—Oh God. Was Snape a gigolo? Oh _God_. Even worse…was the sexy Professor Lupin—the most eligible bachelor in Britain—gay? No, I couldn't handle that…that wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair to women. I mean, come on. Men didn't deserve Lupin. They were assholes…they deserved guys like Snape…or…I don't know, Percy Weasley. But no, not Lupin…

Dramatizing much? Yes, possibly.

But see, there was this theory amongst students that all the tension between Snape and Lupin was sexual tension. I mean, neither of them were married, to our knowledge. And they were just so uptight around each other. Well, more Snape than Lupin. And yeah, Snape was kind of acted like he had a wand up his arse around most people, especially around whoever's the current professor for Defense…but still. This strain seemed even greater than normal. Hence, the Snape-Lupin love affair. Of course, it wasn't talked about that much, mainly because no one wanted it leaked out to the professors themselves. Not that anyone was really concerned with stupid Snape, but Lupin was a sweetheart, and there was a general unspoken consensus amongst the student body that we loved Lupin and wouldn't expose him to such speculative ridicule. Well, I mean, we _liked_ him…ok, I loved him and everyone else just liked him, if you really wanted to be accurate…

Ok. I was in the middle of an empty classroom speculating about Snape and Lupin as a potential couple while my best friend was possibly in mortal peril. I'm a horrible woman and should be stoned to death.

* * *

I hurried down the stairs, no longer taking caution to remaining unseen (though I secretly prayed I wouldn't run into Snape or Filch). I had to tell Professor Sprout. God. She was probably asleep and I'd have to wake her up…

I was tiptoeing as quietly and as quickly as I could towards Professor Sprout's office, which was only a few doors away from the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. I turned a corner though, and at that very moment stopped dead in my tracks as I saw Denise tiptoeing towards the portrait that guarded our common room. She seemed to have heard my footsteps, as she too froze in her spot. Hey eyes, which had just met mine, were full of shock—almost as much as mine had been when I took in her very disheveled appearance she was currently sporting.


	16. Oliver's Wood

**A/N: Ok, so you know the drill. I apologize for taking many, many weeks to update, and you all forgive me and proceed to reading this. ) So, this chapter isn't quite finished, but it would probably be very, very long if I ended it at the point I wanted, so I'm just going to post part II of this chapter in the next day or so (really! I promise! Ok, I'm crossing my left fingers as I type with my right hand, but you get the sincerity, right? I will try my best. Really!)**

* * *

**Chapter 16: Oliver's Wood and Heinrich**

* * *

I wasn't sure how long it took me to move from my spot against the wall, but at some point I did, because I had soon joined Denise by the entrance of the Hufflepuff common room.

"Denise!" I tried whispering, but it came out a bit as a squeal.

Instinctively, Denise hit my arm and pushed me through the portrait hole and down the stairs that led to our common room. Ok. Seriously? I've been worrying my bloody bum off for twenty minutes about her and she was _seriously_ shoving me back into the common room?

"Denise, where the hell—"

"Shh! In a second!" Denise whispered, pushing me forward.

Oh, and now she was shushing me. This was what happened when you overly nurtured and spoiled your children with love and affection. They started pushing you down staircases, trying to shush you. God. I sounded like my mum. Seriously, I actually remembered her saying something along those lines to me once…

We entered the common room that was as empty as before, and for a moment I thought Denise might have whirled me around to face her and begin explaining what the hell happened to her, but instead she led me to one of the sofas by the fire and muttered something about sitting down. It was when I actually got to hear her voice that I realized there was a bit of shakiness to it.

"Denise?" I asked uncertainly, cocking an eyebrow at her as I took a seat next to her by the fire. In the light, I saw that her face was a bit pale and clammy. Her fingers kneaded each other fretfully in her lap. "Denise?" I repeated, "Where've you been? I woke up about twenty minutes ago and realized you weren't in bed, and I went around looking for you, and was about to go see Professor Sprout! What happened?"

Denise looked down at her lap and frowned. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you, Suzie—"

"Are you alright?"

Finally meeting my eyes, Denise nodded. "I'm fine. Really, I am…and I'm so sorry, Suzie…I should have thought about you and realized you would have worried…I mean, I would have been a basket case if you didn't turn up in our room at night. I was so stupid, I didn't think—"

"Denise!" I cut her off, trying not to raise my voice to the supersonic level it rarely ever hit but was definitely approaching, "what the hell happened? God, tell me already!"

There was a moment of silence in which I suddenly realized I was shaking too now, a little. She was on a date with Vince. Oh, _God_, if that jackass had anything to do with this extremely pleasant moment we were having right now…

"Well," she started off slowly, "I was with Vince."

Oh God. That bastard. He raped her. And now she was pregnant, and he wasn't going to pay for child support. That butt-faced son of a—oh, wait. No, she said she was alright, didn't she? And I suppose you couldn't tell if you were pregnant just like that. Ok, mustn't get ahead of ourselves…

"Well, you know, we spent the whole day together," Denise continued, her voice becoming steadier, "and we had such a good time, we were kind of down about having to part at dinner time…I mean, we only get to see each other at these Hogsmeade trips or Quidditch matches, and it's only for a few hours…"

I nodded, fighting the urge to tell her to get to the damn point already. "Right, I understand. So…you just decided to stay out a bit longer with him?"

Denise nodded. "Yeah. He…well, he thought it might be fun if we got out of Hogsmeade for a bit."

My jaw dropped. "You guys left Hogsmeade?" I asked. Ok. Not that I was a stickler for rules or anything, but Denise sure as hell was. God, a few weeks ago she was reprimanding me for skiving off Charms in order to finish my Transfiguration homework, and here she was staying out after hours, and leaving Hogsmeade!

Denise shrugged a little. "We went to London—"

"_London?!"_

"Suzie, your voice!" Denise hissed. "Yes, London! We went over to Diagon Alley…he took me to dinner, and then…well, you know, he told me that he had just gotten a job at Gringotts, and so he had decided to move to London…he lives over in the muggle area."

I cocked an eyebrow at Denise. "Did you see his place?"

Denies nodded. "Yeah, he took me back to his flat…"

I gasped, putting my hands over my mouth. Oh God. Any time someone says "He took me back to his flat…" that can only mean one thing…

Denise was pressing her lips together, and I couldn't tell if she was fighting the urge to laugh or cry. "So," she said, practically in a whisper now, "I was with him there for a bit…and…well, we…erm…"

I was biting my fingernails now in anticipation. "You had sex?" I asked, drawing breath.

She nodded. "We—we had sex." she said softly, looking up at me rather timidly, which was a bit unnerving. I've seen that look on Denise, but never has it been directed at me. She actually looked afraid of me.

"Wow." I said with a sigh, looking away from her to gaze into the fireplace. "You…you did..._it_, huh?"

"Yeah."

There were a few moments of silence. Denise had sex tonight. She had _sex_. Sex! I couldn't get the stupid word out of my head. I mean, I wasn't against her having it or anything…but…she just sprung it on me! I wasn't expecting it! I always thought she was going to wait until she married…I mean, she said that once. Though come to think of it, I couldn't remember how serious she was when she said that. It was sort of in passing. We were up one night reading old issues of _Witch Weekly_ (it's sort of a guilty pleasure for both of us), and giggling over all the relationship and sex tips in them when Denise mentioned that she didn't think she'd ever be ready for sex, and probably wouldn't do it until she married. But here she was, back from…er…doing it with Vince. Ew. I didn't really want to think of the two of them doing anything. I mean, it wasn't gross…it was just weird. Vince hasn't been around for long. I only met him at that quidditch match a while back, and we didn't even talk much. Sure, he was good-looking and came from a nice family, but I didn't know what sort of guy he was. For all we knew, he could have had his way with her tonight, and never talk to Denise again…

"Suzie?"

I glanced up at Denise, who was still looking at me apprehensively. She wanted a reaction, I knew that much…but I didn't know what to say. I didn't know where to start. I had too many questions…

"Say something." She said, frowning at me.

"Well," I started, searching for the best place to start from, "er…so…you did it in his flat?"

Did I seriously just ask that?

Denise's brows furrowed as she looked on to me like I was weird, which was understandable. "Um…yes. Where else would we have—oh, Suzie, come on—be straightforward with me. What are you thinking? I'm telling you all of this because you're my best friend. I have to be honest with you, and I want you to be the same with me."

I sighed. "Alright. I'm sorry…I'm just…I'm trying to wrap my mind around this."

Denise nodded. "I know. It's weird, isn't it?"

"Very."

"Yeah."

"I mean, this happened so suddenly," I said, curling my legs onto the sofa to sit cross-legged, "I didn't know you guys were…I don't know, serious."

"I know. It was definitely unexpected."

"Very unexpected." I echoed. "You've only been on a few dates, haven't you?"

"Third one." She replied quietly. "But…I don't know…it felt right. I felt ready."

"After three dates?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow at her, trying to imagine myself having sex with Roger after two more dates. Oh, gross.

Denise frowned, and I knew she was getting into defensive mode. "I know it seems like a short period of time—"

"Er…yeah. You hardly know each other…"

"We _do_ know each other," Denise snapped, "and we really connect. I'm not a slut, Suzie, who's going to jump into bed with any random guy. I care about Vince, and I know he cares about me. We know that, and if that's enough for us, that should be enough for you!"

"Enough for me?" I asked, laughing partly because of the ridiculousness of her comment, and partly because her annoyance with me was only provoking me more. "This isn't about me, Denise! This is about you! You've dated guys longer than you have Vince and you never slept with any of them!"

"Well, they were immature," Denise replied, "and I was younger. And the time it takes for you to be ready for intimacy varies from person to person. I couldn't have been intimate with any of the other guys I've dated because I never connected with them, and they weren't for me. Vince is different though. I know him, and I'm comfortable around him. I'm comfortable with myself when I'm around him."

"Really? Aren't we pretty comfortable around each other too? Want to shack up with me?" I asked. The moment the words left my mouth though, I felt the lack of maturity in them, and immediately regretted saying something so childish.

Denise shook her head and stood up. "I was really hoping you'd understand and be supportive about this. I actually believed that you would. Who am I kidding though? You're too immature to get it—"

"I am not immature," I retorted, "I'm just concerned. I mean, I do reserve that right, as your best friend, to be a bit worried when you uncharacteristically don't show up for dinner when it's dinner time, don't show up in the dormitory when it's bed time, and come tumbling in after midnight, after having sex with a guy you hardly know! I'm not saying you're wrong for doing this…I'm just saying it's not you, Denise! You're usually the cautious, careful one. You've never done things like this before, and that's what worries me!"

For a second I thought she was either going to hit me or snap back with something else, as she was usually the better arguer and always had more reason and logic than me. But she didn't say anything.

I think I may have hit a nerve. Oh bloody hell. I'm the worst best friend ever…

"Oh Denise," I started in a calmer voice as I pulled her to sit back down next to me, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come off so harshly. I just…I'm concerned, that's all. As immature as I may appear, I can be as protective and doting as either of our mothers when it comes to my best friend. I mean, you can understand that, can't you? I mean, wouldn't you flip if I came back from my date today and told you I had slept with Roger?"

Denise's eyes widened slightly. "Oh! How did your date go, by the way?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Shut up, Denise. We're not done talking about your sexual escapades. Let's talk about you first, and then I'll tell you about my day."

Denise smiled slightly as she nodded and sighed. "You don't approve of me and Vince doing it, do you?"

I paused for a moment to consider her question. "Well," started slowly, trying to find the right words so as to not provoke Denise's wrath again, "it's not that I don't approve…you know that I don't care about that stuff. I mean, hi. I'm the daughter of a couple who shagged two hours after meeting each other and ended up marrying because mum got pregnant with my sister."

Denise giggled, and I rolled my eyes. Everyone always got such a kick out of hearing the story of my parents. Mum had met Dad at a muggle pub one night—she had gone there because she was young, horny, and had a fetish for muggles, and Dad had been there that night because one of his muggle mates had just gotten tenured at the university he was teaching at, and they had been celebrating (yes, they were all dorks). Mum had thought he was a muggle and immediately began to flirt with him. Twenty minutes later they were snogging in some dark and dingy alleyway. She discovered his wand (she had thought it was something else when she felt it under his clothes, if you know what I mean…they had a laugh about it; I always cringed when they retold this part of the story to people), and completely jazzed at having found another magical person in a muggle place, they had hooked up. So I was definitely not a stranger to rushed relationships. I told Denise this, and she seemed considerably cheered up.

"So…you're ok with this then?" Denise asked when I assured her that if I couldn't consider my own mum a slut, there was no way in hell Denise could be one in my book. "I mean, I don't think I need your blessings. I _know_ I don't. But you're my best friend, and I should like to know I have them all the same."

I smiled slightly. "It's just weird for me, that's all. It just didn't seem like you to act like that. But honestly, if you're happy with this, if you're happy with Vince and all of this, I'm happy for you too, and I'll totally be supportive of this. I don't know Vince well, but I'm sure he's a good guy and he cares about you."

Denise grinned. "He does. I really think he does. He's just"—Denise sighed dreamily, and I rolled my eyes and giggled—"he's perfect. He's sweet and caring, and tender…"

I bit down on my lip, wondering if Denise would suddenly turn prudish on me for asking what I wanted to ask. Oh hell…she's my best friend for a reason, right?

"So…how was it? Was he…er…nice?" I asked, feeling myself turn pink.

Denise sniggered, but to my relief, she was blushing as well. "He was. I mean, he asked me a million times before we did it if I was sure I was ready, and he was just really gentle and everything."

I nodded, pressing my lips together to keep myself from breaking into a fit of very immature giggles. I really wanted to know more, but I wasn't sure if this was something you were allowed to talk about with friends. Was it too personal? I really had no idea.

"Well…alright then." I said lamely, not quite sure what to say next. Denise however was looking rather amusedly at me.

"Wow. I thought you were going to shower me with questions, begging to hear every gross detail or something." She said with a laugh.

My mouth fell open and twisted into a smile. "Actually, I wanted to, but I thought you might be weirded out by telling me all the details."

Denise giggled. "Actually, I was really hoping you'd want to hear the particulars. I've been dying to tell _someone_ about it."

I grinned as Denise curled into the sofa, ready to fill me in on the dirty details of her night. "Alright, let's go. And don't leave out anything." I said excitedly. "I want to know all of it, including how well-endowed Mr. Macmillan is."

Denise made a face but laughed with me as she began to recount her night to me.

* * *

Ok. I'm never going to have sex. Seriously. The very nature of it is quite disgusting. And there's pain. Did you know about the pain? I mean, ok, I knew there was some…but I didn't know how much! God! I actually resented Denise a little for bursting my idealistic sex bubble. Why couldn't she have shielded me and lied, telling me it was the most fantastic thing she'd ever experienced? Well, actually, she did say that…but that was after she told me about all the other grossness, so really any nice things she could have said about sex bore no relevancy to me. I would simply have to become a nun. Or a lesbian, because then I wouldn't have to deal with the man-parts. I no longer had any desire to see those. Not even Oliver Wood's wood could tempt me. Er…I don't think. Oh. Sickness. I couldn't even think about it…

"It's really not as bad as I made it sound!" Denise giggled when she saw me shuddering at the sight of a sausage at breakfast the next morning. "It's just a little weird in the beginning, but then it starts to get better…you know, with a little more practice or whatever."

"What gets better with a little more practice?"

Denise and I immediately glanced up. Cedric had joined us. He was wearing muggle clothes, and hadn't bothered to comb his hair this morning. Not that it hurt him. The girls seemed to love a tousled-hair Cedric even more. Ick. They all probably wanted to sleep with him. I bet they were all virgins, with nothing but lust in their heads, completely naïve to the cruel realities of sex. They had no idea what the sweet and dreamy Cedric was capable of. Oh, ew. I've grossed myself out, thinking of Cedric having a sex life…

"Nothing," Denise said quickly. "Good morning, Cedric. Sleep well?"

He cocked an eyebrow at her as he helped himself to a glass of orange juice. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep well til school's out. I'm up every night til two or three in the morning studying. And last night, I had gotten up after my mates were all asleep so I could catch up on Potions, and I heard all this noise from the common room. A bunch of girls chattering or something," he said, rolling his eyes. "It was obnoxious."

Denise and I glanced at each other and smirked.

"Pass the sausage, Suzie, will you?"

I glanced up at Cedric before reaching for the dish of sausages, making a face at them as I did so. Denise merely rolled her eyes at me.

"Really, Suzie…" she muttered.

Cedric looked up from his breakfast. "What?"

"Nothing," I said quickly as I shoved the plate in his direction, trying not to inhale the smell of the sausages. After Denise's NC-17 rated Birds-and-the-Bees talk last night, I think I'm going to swear off sausage. And hot dogs. And kabobs. And—you know what? I'm just going to become a vegetarian. "Here. Eat up."

Cedric muttered a thanks as he pulled the plate towards himself. "Hey, so you never told me how your date with Roger went." He said as he dug into his scrambled eggs. "Are you guys going to be seeing each other again?"

Glancing briefly at Denise, I shrugged. After hearing about Denise's sex-capades (a word I decided to designate as the term used to describe the Denise-Vince love affair. I coined it last night. Denise had resented it a little), I told her about my very unsuccessful date with Roger, followed by my happy run-in with Oliver, and how I suspected he had lied to me about his going back to Hogwarts. Lying to moi. Usually lying was a cause for resentment, but I had to admit, I was rather flattered. He lied so he could walk with me! I think. I hope. I'm _pretty _sure…

Anyway, Denise was as excited about Oliver's lying and walking with me as I was, and she insisted that since I obviously still had feelings for Oliver (which—I was ashamed to admit—I actually tried denying…I know. It was like asking Madeline to deny her sluttiness), and since my date with Roger hadn't gone that well ("I never liked him anyway," Denise had muttered, "so immature…all he can think about is snogging!"), I should cut the latter loose. I didn't think our relationship was going places anyway…

Cedric seemed to have taken my shrug and silence as a hint that the subject of my date was closed. He looked thoughtfully at me for a moment before reaching over the table for the orange juice pitcher again. Didn't he _just_ have a glass of orange juice? God, that's a lot of vitamin C for one person. No wonder everyone refers to him as a "strapping young chap." It's all that orange juice that makes him all healthy and glowing…and good-looking. Making a mental note to do an expose on hot wizards and their diets if I land a job at one of those witch-oriented magazines I applied to. Tons of glossy photos of Cedric-looking guys drinking tall glasses of milk and orange juice, grinning as they tell their interviewer (me, of course) what they eat to stay good-looking…oh wait, hold on. What imaginary magazine was I doing this for again? I think I've been rejected by every respectable magazine in Britain. Oh, now I'm depressed…

"So, in other news…" Cedric started slowly, taking a sip of his orange juice, "I barely scraped an 'A' on my last Potions exam. You two are so lucky to be almost done with school…"

At about the same time, Denise and I glanced up. We stared at him in annoyed silence for a few moments, and then, as expected, Cedric rolled his eyes and scooted down the Hufflepuff table to leave us alone. Dense and I grinned at each other. Worked every time. The best part of this method though was that Cedric was too good-natured to be offended or even care about not being wanted. Besides, he was one of the most popular guys in school—everyone wanted him—and he had no trouble seeking company if he needed it. Figures. He's hot _and_ amiable. Such a rare package. I wished I could have found it in my hormones to be attracted to him…

"So," Denise began the moment Cedric had slid away from us, "I really think you should break it off with Roger if you don't care much for him. I mean, you don't want to string him along if your heart isn't even in it."

I nodded slowly as I took a sip of milk. "My heart is definitely not in it. That date was awkward as hell and I have no desire to repeat it."

"Alright. So….you're going to break up with him then?" Denise asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"So it would seem." I replied, grinning at her. "I think we've got that pretty well established now."

Denise rolled her eyes at me. "When are you going to do it?"

"Oh! Er…I don't know." I mumbled, craning my neck to get a better look at the Ravenclaw table. Having finished his breakfast, Roger was just getting up from the table to leave. "Next time I see him, I suppose…he looks like he's in a hurry right now."

Again, Denise rolled her eyes at me. "And when will that be?"

I shrugged. "I'll just wait until I run into him. There's no sense in going out of my way to find him. That would be silly. I mean, we're in different houses, and this castle is huge. He could be anywhere at any given time."

Denise smiled. "It's ok to be afraid."

I glared at her. "It's ok to be afraid? Denise, I'm not five years old and trying to dodge the monsters in my closet—"

"No, but you would like to dodge Roger at this point, wouldn't you? Break-ups are hard, and a bit awkward. Nobody likes dealing with them, Suzie. It's totally ok to be afraid."

I sighed in defeat. "Fine. I'm terrified. But it's only because I've never broken up with a guy before!" I let out a sigh. "I feel kind of pathetic. Our relationship must be one of the shortest-lived relationships ever seen."

Denise sniggered. "Well, Cedric was dating that one blonde chippie over the summer, and their relationship had lasted about an hour, hadn't it?"

"Oh yeah!" I replied, grinning fondly at the memory of Cedric showing up at my parents' anniversary party with a girl he had met the day before in Diagon Alley named Ashley. She was a squib who attended muggle school, so of course we had never met before. Cedric seemed quite infatuated with her, until she informed all of us that she had just gotten out of a terrible relationship with her girlfriend of two years. Oh, the look on Cedric's face when she smiled coyly and admitted to being attracted to both wizards and witches was completely priceless. "Nothing wrong with that," Cedric had stammered to Ashley, "I just…er...I don't know how I feel about dating someone like that." He had promptly broken up with her on the spot. Oh, Cedric. He was a complete homophobe, and it was rather pathetic. Huh. Well, thinking about him and his bisexual girlfriend of one hour made me feel a bit better about my own relationship with Roger.

"You should really break things off with Roger as soon as possible," Denise said sagely, "Breaking up is just one of those things you've got to do right away, you know? Just do it quick and get it over with…like ripping off a bandage."

"Uh huh." I replied, disinterestedly.

"I mean, the longer you wait, the harder it gets."

I giggled into my glass of orange juice and ended up choking on it, spraying mists of orange juice all over the Hufflepuff table.

"Suzie!" Denise huffed, making a sick face at me. "Honestly, you're such a perv."

I'm sorry, but I can't help it! Some words just make me completely giddy, regardless of the context they're in. 'Hard' is one of them.

* * *

Damn, damn, damn. _Why_ did I listen to Denise and go to the library? Just because it was Sunday afternoon, it didn't mean I needed to have a sense of urgency about getting my homework done. It did though to Denise, as she had insisted on meeting me in the library after lunch to work on homework for Transfiguration and Potions. Oh, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, which, by the way, had also prompted Denise to harass me about not thanking Lupin yet for saving me in that falling-down-the-staircase incident—which incidentally was another reason I had listened to Denise and retreated to the library—I didn't want to hear any more of her lectures. Honestly, how selfish and ungrateful did she think me? Of course I was going to thank Lupin! Mind you, I was still a bit uneasy around him considering how he knew about my whole crush thing (nope, still have not gotten over that yet. Anyway, you try being comfortable around the hottest man in the world, who also happens to know that you think he's the hottest man in the world), but in no way was my uneasiness getting in the way of my showing gratitude towards everyone's favorite professor. It was just a timing issue; that was all. I mean, I fell down the stairs on Friday and had been in the hospital wing most of the day. Yesterday was Saturday and I had been in Hogsmeade most of the day. And today was Sunday, and…er…well, Sunday was the day of rest. So, there you had it. There was just no time to visit Professor Lupin to thank him. Besides, I had class with him tomorrow; I could have just done it then. No big deal. I didn't understand why Denise had to get her wand in a knot over this whole thanking-Lupin business.

But anyway, I was damning myself a few seconds ago. The reason being that I was currently in the library, sitting at a table and waiting for Denise, when I realized that the one and only Roger Davies was at a shelf nearby scanning a row of books. He didn't seem to notice me, but he sure as hell would have if he looked up. And then we would have to talk. And I would have to break up with him. I didn't want to break up with him. I mean, what the hell did one say in a break-up? Well, honest things, for one…but how did one go about in being nice about it? I didn't want to hurt Roger's feelings. I mean, what if he liked me more than I liked him? What if he actually had a good time yesterday and was looking forward to our next date? Oh, I couldn't deal with it. He was a nice guy after all—a bit pervy and lewd—but a nice guy nonetheless. I didn't want to hurt him. I couldn't hurt him, I just couldn't—hey! He left!

I leaned forward in my chair to watch Roger walk away. He hadn't even noticed me. Ah, shucks. Guess I couldn't go break up with now. I suppose I had to just try again another day…

Courage, Suzie.

Ignoring the nagging feeling in my stomach that reminded me that I was a Hufflepuff and that courage was for silly lion-hearted Gryffindors, I left my seat and followed Roger. The sooner I got it done with, the sooner I could start putting my energies into seducing Oliver Wood again, right? Not that I ever got around to much seducing, I suppose. I wasn't really the seducing type, much as I would have liked to have been. I was too awkward to be sexy, which really made me sad, because I was always fond of my ideas on seducing dark wizards to join the good side. I was resigned to the fact that my breakthrough theories in defense against the dark arts could only be written about and talked about by me, but never actually performed by me. Sad indeed.

I sighed as I watched Roger turn a corner. He was probably really busy with his schoolwork and stuff, wasn't he? Maybe I shouldn't bother him then. No. _No_. I needed to do this. I needed to get it over with. Ok. Maybe just wait here for now, and first try to think of what I want to say. Yes, that's it. A plan. Ok. What should I say? Er… "Hi Roger…how are you? Good? Right then. Oh, same here! I'm fine too. So uh…about yesterday…well, you know…I wanted to thank you—"

Thank him for the wonderful time I didn't have? No…wait, yes? I wasn't sure. Oh! Ok, I could say that I appreciated his taking me out, but—ok, no. He wasn't like a business client or anything (in which case I would have been something of a prostitute, which was strangely amusing to me at the moment…although, I can't really see prostitutes thanking businessmen for their time…I don't know, do they?) Oh! Woah, ok. I could tell him I was interested in someone else! Yes! And it was true, too! Awesome. Ok, so I would tell him that I fancied someone else, and my heart wasn't in it, etc., etc…and gently let him down like that. Perfect. Ok. Here goes.

I turned the corner from where Roger had disappeared, and proceeded down the narrow aisle that would lead me to a small clearing of tables where I was fairly certain Roger had headed to. Alright. Be nice, be quick, and have it all done within a few minutes…

I reached the clearing and had indeed found Roger at one of the study tables…except he wasn't quite alone.

Oho. Within-a-few-minutes my ass.

The book that he had just picked up from the shelf a few moments ago was strewn on one end of the table, while he, along with some Ravenclaw who I was pretty sure was a fourth year, were leaning against the other end of the table, snogging like there was no tomorrow.

"Roger!" I squeaked.

Oh God. So many things were running through my head right now. A) I was being cheated on, B) was it really cheating if I was about to break up with him? C) I was actually upset, D) it was amusing that Roger had the balls to snog in the library when Madam Pince could have swooped down on them at any moment, dragging them out of the library by their tongues, E) I was afraid of Madam Pince swooping down on me at any moment for reaching my decibel quota for the week. F) How could I be amused and upset with Roger at the same time?

The girl, who had been running her fingers through Roger's celebrated floppy hair, jumped back and let out a small gasp for air. I felt a brief rush of sympathy towards her—she was tiny and petite, and probably didn't have big enough lungs to accommodate Roger's kissing style.

"Suzie—hi!" he said in a mildly surprised voice. Not nearly as surprised as I would have expected. Hell, he actually sounded more annoyed with me for interrupting than surprised. That bastard.

The Ravenclaw girl muttered something about needing to find another book, and quickly scuttled away, leaving the two of us alone.

"Er—so, how've you been?" he asked, watching the retreating figure of his snogging partner.

"How've I been?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and taking a few steps forward. "I find you snogging some little kid in the library, and you're asking me how I've been?"

"Well…" Roger began slowly, "you know, she's only a year younger than me, so she's not really a little kid to me. I mean, to you, maybe she is because you're much older—er. Right. Sorry…so not the time." He muttered quickly when I glared at him.

"Alright," he started again, glancing down at the floor as he spoke, "That was Elise…do you know her?"

"Fourth year in your house, right?"

"Yeah." He said with a sigh. "That's her. I figured, since you know, our date didn't go very well…I assumed you weren't really interested in me…so I hooked up with Elise."

I rolled my eyes at him. "But we just went out yesterday…when the hell did you hook up with her?"

He shrugged. "Yesterday, after our date…when I went to go meet my friends, I ran into her…and we er, hit it off almost immediately."

"You really don't waste any time, do you?"

Roger smiled sheepishly. "You hate me, don't you?"

Casting my eyes at the ceiling, mainly because I didn't really know where else to look, I simply shrugged. "No, I don't hate you."

"We weren't exclusive anyway." He persisted. "I swear, if I had caught you snogging some other bloke, I wouldn't have been mad at you."

I sighed and waved a dismissive hand. "It's alright. I actually came here to break up with you anyway. I didn't know if we were on the same page, but I guess since we are, it's fine."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Roger grinned. "You wanted to break up with me?"

Not exactly sure of what he was smiling about, I nodded. "Er—yeah."

He threw his head back a little and laughed. "So what's the big deal then?"

I sighed, rolled my eyes at him, and walked away without responding.

Younger playboys-in-the-making. Never again.

* * *

"Hey, pass me Keightley's book, will you?"

Grinning slyly at Denise, I picked up _Existential Sensuality: A Study of the Veela_ and slid it over to her side of the table. "No problem, Hogsmeade Whore."

She glared at me as she accepted the book and opened it. "Well, aren't we in a good mood now?"

"Yes, somewhat."

"And I didn't do it in Hogsmeade, you know."

I sniggered as I leafed through the pages of _Dancing with the Veela_. "Yes, I know. But I just decided I like alliteration and couldn't think of anything better."

She rolled her eyes at me and went back to her reading.

"Oh! Hufflepuff Whore!" I whispered excitedly. "You're the whore of Hufflepuff! Yes! It's perfect! I'm going to make you a badge to wear and everything—"

Denise gave me a sharp look, which was a signal that someone (most likely Madam Pince) was nearby, so I shut up. I looked over my shoulder and saw that Oliver had just entered the vicinity with Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell. Ok, so I was an extremely immature, insecure person because my first reaction was jealous fury. Walking past us with _two_ girls? I didn't care if they were just his teammates…they were girls! He just always had to be around girls, didn't he? Geez. Men were all the same, weren't they? Always moving from girl to girl, never quite satisfied with just settling with one. I felt a sudden rush of anger towards all men (though only the image of Roger and Oliver came to mind), but waited quietly for Oliver and his girls to pass by, perking up my ears to see if I could catch anything.

"Oliver, I swear, if I fail my potions exam because of you…" Katie whispered threateningly as she and Alicia trailed behind him.

"Look, I just want to go over a few maneuvers with you two; it'll only be a few minutes."

"Can't we go over them here?" Alicia asked in an irritated whisper, "We've got studying to do!"

"No!" Oliver hissed as he led them around the corner, "We can't do it here because Madam Pince will slit my throat if she catches me going over game plans in the library again."

Alicia and Katie glanced at each other exasperatedly before following Oliver and disappearing behind the corner. And…the anger has subsided. Actually, his nagging Katie and Alicia was kind of cute! God, I was such a moody person…

Grinning, I turned back to Denise. But before I could even comment about how endearing Oliver's impromptu team meetings were, she let out a small gasp that made me jump.

"I almost forgot to tell you!" Denise whispered excitedly, "Yesterday Vince told me that his dad knows Oliver's dad!"

I could feel my eyes widening slightly. "Really? How?"

Denise leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. "Well," she started quietly, "Vince's dad owns a bunch of property all along Diagon Alley. Like every other store owner there has him as a landlord."

"Really?" I said again, wondering if my Uncle Jack paid his rent to the sexy Mr. Macmillan. "Wow. He's loaded then."

Not that that fact wasn't obvious already, what with those gorgeous burgundy robes of his that screamed "I've been featured on _Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous Wizards._"

Denise shrugged. "Yeah…well anyway, apparently Oliver's dad owns Obscurus Books."

"Obscurus Books?" I asked in surprise, "The publishing company? That's _his_ company? Oliver's dad is a _publisher_?"

Denise nodded. "Yep. He's a publisher. And he's Mr. Macmillan's tenant."

"That's so cool!" I whispered excitedly. A publisher! So he was a literary man! Oh, a literary man. I wondered if he had any connections with the _Daily Prophet_ or any other newspapers or magazines…not that I had any idea of how to talk Oliver into talking his dad into hooking me up with a job…

Denise wasn't grinning with me though. Quite the contrary, she looked a bit sullen.

"Er—why are we sad about Oliver's dad? I think publishing's a pretty cool industry." I said. "Oh, and how did this all come up with you and Vince?"

"I was just getting to that," Denise whispered, now glancing around to make sure no one was around. "Vince was telling me about his dad's work, and just how sometimes you have problems with tenants and stuff. He just offhandedly mentioned that his dad was always having issues with Mr. Heinrich Wood, who owned Obscurus Books."

"But how do you know it's Oliver's dad? Wood is a common surname."

Denise raised her eyebrows. "Well, Vince said that while Mr. Wood was a jackass, his son, Oliver, was a decent fellow, so…that was the tip-off."

I nodded. "Ah. Right. So…what issues do they have?"

Shrugging in response, Denise turned back to her book. "No idea. Vince didn't say. I don't think he knew. All he said was that they had issues, but his father didn't want to release Mr. Wood from their contract because he's been there for so long, _and_ because he's one of the higher-paying tenants. "

Oh. Intrigue. So, Mr. Heinrich Wood was a publisher. A well-off publisher if he could afford to pay the pricey rent on Diagon Alley. A grumpy publisher who didn't get along with Mr. Macmillan. I wondered what their disputes were about. I wondered if Oliver knew. Eh. Probably not; he seemed so oblivious. But then again, he didn't seem too crazy about his dad…maybe his inability to get along with people had something to do with it? I thought of the few scarce moments I had ever seen Mr. Wood, and tried to imagine the various scenarios in which he could possibly annoy Mr. Macmillan. Only I didn't really know either of them, so it was hard to do. Oh well. So…in addition to Oliver's comment yesterday about how his dad was really into quidditch, I now had quite a bit of information on the oh-so intimidatingly burly Heinrich Wood. Well, ok. Not that much information, but I certainly knew more about him than I did about…oh, I don't know, veela…

I looked down at my incomplete transfiguration assignment. I was so completely screwed, homework-wise. I knew more about Oliver's dad than I knew about veelas—creatures whose natural transfiguration patterns I was supposed to have been an expert on by now. Damn them for their abilities to turn into birds. It was just making my life more difficult…

I flipped through the pages of _Dancing with the Veela_, hoping to find something useful. Absolutely nothing about their becoming like birds. I did however find a page full of illustrations of veela doing their sensual dances. Wow. I was kind of surprised that this wasn't in the restricted section…

"Here," I whispered to Denise as I slid the opened book over to her end of the table. "Just a little something you could try with Vince next time you're with him."

I grinned as I watched Denise blush furiously as she glanced over the pictures quickly before shoving the book back in my direction. "Pervy."

"Kinky." I countered. "If I had a guy, I would totally do the thing in that last picture, the one in the right-hand corner…except I'm not sure if my body can bend like that…"

Surprisingly, Denise giggled along with me instead of reprimanding me for being a pervert. "It looks like the stuff you'd do in a strip club or something—oh!"

Denise had glanced past me, her eyes wide in fear. I turned around, and I actually felt my heart skip a few beats. Oh shit. Madam Pince.

Brushing past me, Madam Pince swooped (yes, she does that a lot; she's very vulture-like) down on Denise and snatched _Dancing with the Veela_. "What is this rubbish?" she hissed, glancing down at the pages of the dancing veela. "Pornography? How _dare_ you sully the walls of _my_ library with this—"

"It's a book I found off the shelf of _your_ library, ma'am." I snapped. "It's not porn, it's a book about veelas, which we need for our research. It's not my fault they're slutty."

Hmm. Maybe I shouldn't have added the slutty part. I had a feeling it had just weakened my case…

"One more foul word out of that obnoxiously loud mouth of yours, and we'll have it washed with soap, mark my words." She retorted waspishly.

I sighed. No point in arguing, right? "Ok. Sorry." I mumbled. "Can we have the book back please?"

Clutching the book tightly to her chest, Madam Pince simply stood there silently, as if trying to decide whether or not we could be trusted to handle erotica in a mature fashion. Well obviously, no we couldn't, but she apparently hadn't figured that out yet.

I rolled my eyes after a few seconds of silence went by. "I swear other women don't exactly rev my engine, if you know what I mean. You run absolutely no risk of having the book returned to you with sticky pages. Can we _please_ have the book back?"

Madam Pince shuddered, and in the corner of my eye I could see Denise trying to stifle a giggle. And with a great sigh, Madam Pince finally shoved the book into my hands and stormed off rather angrily, muttering something about me being a lecherous little tramp. You know, my respect for Madam Pince always seems to increase whenever she insults me…


	17. More of Oliver's Wood

_A/N: Yeah, I don't know why it's part II, and not a separate chapter. It doesn't make much of a difference, does it? Meh…the last chapter just didn't seem complete, and didn't really end on the note I wanted it to…plus I feel like back-to-back updates are just one chapter broken into two parts. shrugs I don't know…I'm sleep deprived…nuf said. Anyway, here's part II…next chapter…thing. And at 10:50 pm. I've kept my promise. Yes, I know. I rock. And I have no life. Anyways:_

* * *

**Chapter 17 or Part II: More of Oliver's Wood**

* * *

Oh, I was so unbelievably moody. I was still in the library, working on my paper for Transfiguration. Denise had already gone down to dinner; for once, I wasn't really in the mood to eat, so I stayed back to get some more work done. Only I wasn't really getting anything done, because I was too busy fuming over this whole business with Roger. How was I not angrier when I confronted him earlier today? I had let him off way too easy. I was nice to him, for crying out loud! I mean, ok. Granted, I didn't really care about him or anything, but still! He should have had the decency to break up with me before moving on to Elise what's-her-name.

Where on earth did this bad mood come from when only a couple of hours ago I was completely ok with Roger snogging the living daylights out of his little Ravenclaw girlfriend? Well, it all started with seeing Oliver pass by Denise and me earlier in the library. Seeing him with Alicia and Katie had caused something in me to snap. I knew they were just his teammates and they couldn't care three straws for Oliver, but I couldn't help but feel annoyed. He was always hanging out with girls, including me now. I mean, I was pretty flattered when I realized yesterday that he had lied about heading in the same direction as me just so he could walk with me back to Hogwarts, but now I was wondering if he was just bored and wanted company or something. After all, he was still with Madeline. Why was he wasting his time bothering me then? And while I'm on the subject of stupid men, why did Roger kiss me at the end of our date if he knew it hadn't gone that well and wasn't planning on seeing me again?

I tapped my quill against my half-filled sheet of parchment where I was working on my essay. God. Roger and Oliver were both annoying me now. I mean, just thinking about them…I wanted to kick each of them just for being so stupid and selfish and…and…I don't know…being typical guys. I mean, that was pretty typical behavior on their parts, wasn't it? Not bothering to tell you that they're no longer interested in you and they want to see other people…knowing full well that you like them, they lead you on anyway, even when they've got a girlfriend already. This was what men owned up to be. I hate men. Oh, that felt so good to say. Seriously. _I hate men._ I. Hate. Men. Wow. Serious catharsis. I'm not even lying. It makes me smile. Try it. Bet you can't say "I hate men" without feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. I hate men…Sudden urge to scribble this in all the bathrooms. Even the men's rooms. Let the entire world know about my animosity towards men! I, Suzie Hennessey, would become a feminist. I was going to burn all my bras and stop shaving under my arms. Only, I wasn't sure what the point of that was…I mean, didn't guys enjoy it when girls didn't wear bras? And hairy underarms? Ew. Ok. I had no idea what those feminists from the 60s were trying to prove. I wasn't even sure if that could be regarded as true feminism. Ok. That's it. I'm going to invent my own brand of feminism, where women rule the world and are unaffected by the selfish idiocy of men. In fact, men would be demoted to become third class citizens. Think that's unfair? Well see, it's not like it's some sort of caste system that they would be bound by; they could move up in society to our level if they pass some sort of examination and prove themselves worthy to live amongst women. Oh! The Lupin Test! Yes, see, in this feministic society, Lupin would be promoted to some sort of deputy-royalty position, and all men hoping for some vertical social mobility would have to take the Lupin Test, because naturally, he is the model for all things wonderful and manly. So basically, the Lupin Test would examine how well other men can emulate him.

Smiling blissfully at the thought of Lupin wearing a crown and one of those long, red velvet capes, I felt somewhat better. Pathetic, I know. In the space of a few minutes I created my own fantasy world where Professor Lupin and I ruled on high (did you really think I'd let anyone else besides myself rule right above Lupin?) to create a better world for mistreated and foolish girls, who had the misguided belief that guys were the epitome of all things wonderful and perfect. Oh, Lupin. How the hell was I going to rule my kingdom with him if I was still too embarrassed to be around him? I thought back to Denise's morning nagging. I hadn't seen him since my tumble down the stairs, and I really did owe him a thank you for saving me. But the images that were conjured up at the thought of me going to his office to _thank_ him…like I was some sort of damsel in distress (ok, so I was a little), and the thoughts possibly going through his head (_I wish I had let you fall all the way down the stairs. Leave me alone, damnit! I know you love me and want to have my babies, but guess what? The feelings aren't mutual, so get the hell away from me_! Yeah, I know…Lupin would never swear.), all of this made me shudder. As much as I knew a thanking was in order, I just didn't have the guts to demean myself in front of Lupin like a sad little puppy begging for love. Oh, that's another really sad image…

Plus, I had another reason for wanting to avoid Lupin. I was afraid of getting the dreaded question that all soon-to-graduate-but-had-no-idea-what's-the-next-step-in-her-life students come to loathe: "Have you heard from any of those jobs yet?"

I applied to so many places that I couldn't even remember how many rejections I have gotten to date. I have heard from most of the places though. _Daily Prophet_ never even bothered to send me a rejection letter, but I'm assuming that's a sunken ship; God knows what that sexy Sergio bloke who interviewed me thinks of me. Not very highly, since it's been weeks since that botched up interview (I removed those extra language fluency claims from my resume since). I was trying to feel optimistic though. I sent in an application a few weeks ago to _The Merlin Post_. It was a pretty sad little newspaper that had very low circulation, so I was thinking I had a very good chance at getting a reporting job there. It was definitely a far cry from _Witch Weekly_, but it was something, and I had no problems starting my writing career there. Regardless of my optimism though, the idea of talking about my career with Professor Lupin made me nauseous. Honestly, I had a hard enough time dealing with rejections without venting on anyone…there was no way I could stand to tell my favorite professor, who—and I knew this sounded lame—has supported me in these endeavors the same way a friend would, that I was failing miserably at getting my act together. It was just too embarrassing.

"Hey."

Snapping out of my manically-depressed reverie, I glanced up to see who had joined me. I had only half-heard the voice, but almost immediately knew who it was.

"Oliver! Hey!"

Oh, now for an angry feminist, that was a little too perky. Damnit. I was a disgrace.

"I see you're also going on a hunger strike til you finish McGonagall's essay…" Oliver said as he inched towards my table, glancing over my books about veelas. He picked up the book furthest away from me and glanced over it. "Woah…"

I watched his expression. He had cocked an eyebrow as he gazed at the book's contents, and was smiling slightly with amusement. "What?" I asked, surprisingly not that curious about what he found amusing. I mean, my heart was still sort of racing the way it always did when he approached me, but now…I wasn't sure how to describe it. My heart was still racing, but my brain was no longer racing. My words were no longer racing to get out of my mouth. I no longer felt that urgency to talk as much as I could with Oliver simply because he was there. Wow. I guess there's a first time for everything…

Plopping into the chair next to me, Oliver dropped the book in front of me to show me. It was the photo spread of the veela dances that Denise and I had giggled over only a couple of hours earlier.

"Very…er…_bendy_ creatures, those veelas, eh?"

I raised my eyebrows at Oliver. Unless my ears deceived me, he was finally beginning to show the signs of a pervert. 1. Taking amusement the in perviness, 2. Sharing the perviness with others, and 3. Sharing the perviness with a straight face. I was feeling quite proud of him at the moment. Oh, except I was mad at him for being a guy. And I was supposed to be an angry, bitter feminist who was dreaming of a society where guys like Oliver Wood and Roger Davies were third class citizens.

"Er…" Oliver glanced uncertainly at me. Well, figures. I hadn't said anything to his comments about being bendy. I didn't know what to say. I was out of things to say. I was tired. Tired of…I wasn't sure what I was tired of. Tired of Oliver? No, not quite. He was still pretty hot in my books and I would probably jump for joy at this very moment if Oliver announced to me that he dumped Madeline to be with me. I guess I was tired of men in general, I suppose. As a concept, men were just…wearing me out. They were so much work!

Tilting his head sideways at me with a look of concern on his face, Oliver squinted at me. "You alright?"

"I'm tired." I mumbled. "And I already saw those pictures. Madam Pince caught Denise and me laughing over them earlier and told us off."

Oliver sniggered as he reclined back in his seat. Ugh. Typical guy. Didn't even pick up on the deadness of my voice. Next thing you knew, he was going to be asking me for transfiguration stuff so as to avoid the burden of doing his own research and then hurry away, write his essay off my work in five minutes, and then go off and snog Madeline. That was Oliver for you. That was men for you.

"So," I started, shutting the book closed (I really didn't need photos of half naked veelas doing erotic dancing around to distract Oliver while we conversed), "how far along are you on McGonagall's essay? You said you were skipping dinner to finish it too."

"I just finished it, actually, and was about to leave for my common room when I saw you."

"Oh…what's up?"

Oliver shrugged. "Not much. Been busy. Between all the schoolwork and quidditch practice, I'm thinking of drowning myself in the lake..."

I let out a half-hearted laugh. Mildly funny, but nothing to get all manically and flirtatiously amused about. Huh. I felt like a new woman. The old Suzie, young, naïve, and eager to please Oliver, would have giggled and clapped her hands excitedly at the prospects of just sitting around hanging out with Oliver Wood. To be deemed as desirable company by his gorgeous specimen of a man was flattery beyond comprehension. And now…the new Suzie, older, bitterer, and tired of men…this Suzie just wasn't really impressed. God. I've grown up so much in these past couple of months! I was so proud of myself…

I think Oliver noticed this change in my disposition, because he straightened up slightly in his seat and looked at me dubiously again. "So how's that boyfriend of yours?" he asked.

I felt myself tense up slightly. My brain had suddenly picked up speed again and was quickly catching up to my heart. Oh shoot. There goes the "new Suzie."

"Dumped." I replied, staring straight at Oliver as I said it. I wanted to see his reaction.

He simply raised his eyebrows and nodded casually. That was it? What the hell!

"What happened?" he asked.

Fighting the urge to tell him off for having a lack of facial expressions in his reaction, I simply shrugged. "We didn't really hit it off. He just wanted to snog, I wanted to talk."

Oliver nodded. "So…who dumped who?"

I glared at him. "Does it really matter?"

He bit down on his lip as he smiled at me. That ass. "So…he dumped you?"

"Not that it's any of your business or anything, but no. I dumped him."

"Oh."

"Sort of."

Damnit. Why did I have to add that?

"Sort of?" he repeated, cocking an eyebrow at me. He chuckled. "This is going to be interesting…"

I rolled my eyes at him. I knew I was going to regret opening up to him, but the old Suzie seems to have returned with a vengeance, striking the new Suzie over the head with a mallet or something. I explained the whole thing to Oliver. How the date was just weird, and how Roger had kissed me anyway on the mouth at the end of the date, and how I didn't want to see him anymore, so I decided to dump him, only to catch him with Elise what's-her-face.

"Oh, Elise Wharton? That good-looking fourth year? She's in Ravenclaw, right?"

I sighed. Yeah. Here comes the regrets. I made the mistake of opening up to Oliver the Butthead, and instead of showing me sympathy like a gentleman or a girlfriend would, he inquires on the hot lookin' enemy.

"Ugh. Stupid men." I found myself muttering aloud.

"What?"

"I swear, I'm so sick of men." I said with a sigh, letting my voice raise slightly. "They're just so…stupid. I mean, they're so utterly useless. And you all are the same, aren't you? All you guys can think about is snogging the hottest girl you can find. This is why I can't stand men anymore. Seriously, we should just…I don't know, take all the men in the world and stick them underground or something—"

"Er…underground?"

"Well, we can't bloody kill them all, can we? I mean, that's genocide."

"Right." Oliver said slowly, glancing at me warily.

"So…if we can't get rid of them completely…we should just stick them underground…oh, and I suppose let them come out a few times a year for mating purposes, you know, just often enough to keep the species going…"

I sighed again and glanced at Oliver. He actually looked a little troubled. And somehow, that was rather comforting for me…

"This man rant is pretty much Roger-inspired, isn't it?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.

I shrugged. Like I was really going to tell him that he annoyed me too sometimes… "I guess."

He chuckled. "Roger's an idiot though. He has the IQ of a Cornish pixie and the hormonal energy of a hurricane."

I smiled slightly. "Aren't all guys like that though?"

He glared at me. "Are all women as obnoxious as you?"

I pouted in astonishment, mainly because he had shut me up. I didn't know how to reply to that. I wasn't sure…were we all as obnoxious as me? Huh. That was something to think about…

"Roger's fifteen. He's an ass." Oliver said with a yawn.

I raised an eyebrow, feeling slightly amused (though confused as well) at Oliver's comment. "Er…care to elaborate on that?" I asked.

Oliver grinned. "He's fifteen—"

"That's been established…"

"The concept of an Adam's apple is still pretty new to him. So is the concept of a relationship. If you're a fifteen year old guy, the only thing that relationships with a girl entail is snogging."

I nodded. I didn't really know what to say to that. It was true, that was for sure…and I already knew that…sort of. I certainly didn't think about that when I considered going out with Roger, but fifteen year old boys not being ready for real relationships didn't feel like news to me.

"So…are you saying, by the time a guy hits seventeen or eighteen, like yourself, he's mature enough to handle a more…er…complex relationship?

Oliver shrugged, smiling slightly. It was almost a little sheepish. Aw! So cute! No, seriously…it was adorable. Words couldn't even begin to describe just how cute it was. "Nah. Guys usually take forever to not just figure out, but also feel comfortable with a relationship like that. I mean, not all guys, but a lot of guys."

"What about you?"

Hmm. I wondered if that was a bit much…

His eyes had widened slightly at the question. "Er—me? Well…I don't know. I'm not exactly ready to write wedding vows, but these past few months I've been starting to want more out of a relationship than…say, a fifteen year old guy would want. Having a pretty girl cuddling up to you at the weirdest moments loses its charm at some point, you know?"

I sniggered at the image of Madeline cuddling up to an awkward-looking Oliver. When the hell did she cuddle him that he found to be weird moments? So tempted to ask…

"So yeah, that's why Roger's an ass." Oliver declared.

Damn. Changed subjects. Lost my chance.

"I was kind of surprised that you had even gone for him," he continued. "He's ridiculously immature, especially when he's got a broom between his legs, now that I think of it…I haven't played a match against him where he hasn't showcased his broom in an inappropriate fashion."

I giggled. He simply rolled his eyes at me in response. "Though the shared joy you two take in being perverts does help explain the attraction you guys initially had."

* * *

Oh, I was in heaven. Want to know why? Because, dear friends, not only did Oliver and I continue talking in the library til closing time (ok, we spent part of the time finishing up my Transfiguration essay), but…_but_…Oliver asked me out. 

Ok, that was a joke.

And yes, I was quite aware of just how pathetic joking about something like that made me. Anyway. No. Oliver didn't ask me out on a date. However, he _did_ ask me if I wanted to go to the Weird Sisters concert with him! The Weird Sisters! A Weird Sisters concert! With Oliver Wood! Just the two of us! Ok, it wasn't a date. I knew that. But still…he had that damn spare ticket all along, and he finally thought to ask me. Well, ok. He didn't exactly think of me. Here's the downer on this story. It was actually Madeline who suggested that he ask me. And yes, that killed me when he grinned and said "Madeline was right when she said you'd be thrilled!" On the upside though, it was because Madeline and found Oliver's Weird Sisters tickets and taunted him relentlessly for being a closet fan, that she had made this suggestion in the first place. Plus, since those tickets were something he had been hiding from Madeline, I proceeded to congratulate him for _finally_ coming out of the closet, and even hugged him, telling him I was quite proud of him. Course, he probably thought the hug had just been a dramatic device. Little did he know how much I enjoyed that hug. That sounds almost perverted, actually. Like, in the creepy way. Like I get off on hugging innocent, unsuspecting guys. Actually, that was kind of amusing.

Anyway, the concert was in June. So assuming I have no more fights with Oliver til then, come June, he will pick me up and take me to Liverpool for the concert! Oh, it was a dream come true. Well, not quite. But in any case, if I couldn't have Oliver as a boyfriend, at least he was giving me the Weird Sisters live. I suppose that would have to do for now.

"Oh, honestly Suzie…"

I glanced up from my breakfast, and saw Denise rolling her eyes at me. She was grinning though.

"Hi!" I said cheerily, lifting a spoonful of oatmeal to my mouth. Sadly, as I was occupied with grinning at Denise, the spoon missed my mouth and in the next moment had hot oatmeal dripping from my chin.

"You're so pathetically cute." Denise laughed as she passed me a napkin.

"I am not." I snapped. I mean, being cute was all good and well, but being pathetic certainly wasn't very becoming.

"Your eyes have been glazed over all morning." Denise replied as she buttered a slice of toast. "And you were a complete basket case when you jumped into my bed last night to tell me that Oliver had invited you to that Weird Sisters concert. By the way, never do that again."

I grinned. "Jump into your bed? What? You don't want the girls to think you're having an affair on the side of Vince?" I asked innocently.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, something like that."

"Well, I couldn't exactly burst into our room and announce that Oliver and I were going to the concert. I imagine that wouldn't have sat well with Madeline." I replied.

"But hadn't she suggested that Oliver take you?"

I rolled my eyes with slight annoyance. "Yes, but that's beside the point. If I was making a big to do about her boyfriend in front of her…"

"Ahh…" Denise said in understanding, nodding her head. Midway in her nod though, she dropped her toast onto her plate and hunched over, clutching her stomach.

"Are you ok?" I asked quickly, putting down my glass of milk. "Your stomach hurts?"

Denise mumbled something and nodded.

"What?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She said quietly, "I'm just…" she trailed off again in her mutterings.

"Dude, what?" I repeated. "what happened?"

"I'm just having period cramps!" she snapped loudly. Ooh. Right. Glancing around to see who had heard that, I saw an extremely awkward-looking Cedric pushing his toast and jam aside in slight disgust.

"Er…I have a bar of chocolate from Honeydukes if you want it." He offered, frowning slightly. Aw…poor, sweet Cedric. Always so nice to everyone…even crazy girls on their periods.

Denise simply glared at him. Rather than rolling his eyes and scooting away as he normally did though, Cedric scooted off with a much greater sense of urgency, with a trace of fear in his eyes. Hah. I love it when big burly guys like Cedric are afraid of tiny little women like Denise.

"Do you want to go to the hospital wing?" I asked, putting an arm around her. I felt bad for Denise. She always had the worst cramps, and they always seemed to last for hours.

She shrugged. "It'll be fine. Maybe I'll just skip Lupin's class and try sleeping it off or something. Can you turn in my homework for me?"

I agreed and reached for Denise's bag to retrieve her homework while listening to her moan in pain.

"I hate periods, Suzie. I really, really hate them. I don't want them."

I smiled slightly as I found Lupin's assignment and stuck it in my own bag. "Well, be happy this one time that you got it."

"Why?"

"Well, considering your little…uh…extracurricular activities, I would be worried for you if you hadn't gotten it." I said with a grin.

Denise glared at me as she got up to leave.

Chuckling as she stormed off, muttering something about not letting me be the godmother, I took another sip of my milk. Well, that was fun. Though I was admittedly disappointed that she wouldn't be coming with me to class…Denise was something of a safety blanket for me in Lupin's class. I wasn't sure why her presence made me feel safer in around Lupin. It wasn't like he was going to jump on my desk and demand that I admit my feelings for him in front of the class if Denise wasn't there…but still. Her being there was somewhat reassuring.

With my mind occupied on the images of Lupin jumping on top of my desk as a dramatic confrontation and attempt to break the sexual tension between us (I _knew_ there wasn't any on his side, but hello! Lupin was jumping on top of a desk. Anything could go in this fantasy world, ok?) I barely noticed the morning mail landing on top of my empty plate. I absently picked up the small pile of letters as I imagined Professor Lupin confessing his love for me.

Hmm. Postcard from mum and dad. One of my mum's best friends was getting remarried (for the sixth time. She was only forty years old. Seriously) in Vienna, so they were spending a few days there. I glanced over their note. They seemed to be doing fine. Mum was apparently trying to convince Dad that they were still young enough to have another baby…Dad was in love with the rich history of Vienna and was desirous of taking Mum there again, along with me, and even my sister and her husband if they could get away from work. Huh. Cool. Vienna sounded like fun.

I looked at the picture on the other side; it was some old muggle opera house that they had visited. Dad was really into opera, and had managed to get Mum into it as well, though she definitely wasn't as crazy about it as Dad was. My sister and I loathed it—one of the few things we had in common. I had this image of my family squeezed into some stuff auditorium, listening to bearded men and women with large breasts and ball gowns sing in Italian. Hmm. Actually, that would be kind of interesting. Maybe I could get an extra ticket and invite Oliver along…you know, return the favor to him. Heh.

Yeah, I know. Not a chance.

I glanced at the other letter in my hand, and I immediately felt my pulse race. _The Merlin Post_. Finally, one of the last remaining places which I was counting on for a job offer. Fingers shaking, I tore off the waxy seal and unfolded the parchment.

_Dear Ms. Hennessey:   
_

_We appreciate you applying for the position of Reporter at The Merlin Post. Unfortunately we interviewed many applicants in the job search process and hired another individual whose credentials and qualifications were better suited for our needs. Thus we will not be offering you the position, but thank you for your interest._

_If a need arises for us to contact you in the future, we will do so and you have our continued good wishes._

_Very truly yours,_

_Judy Willoughby_

_Editor – in – Chief _

I stared blankly at the letter. It was tiny, and written on cheap parchment. Well, it was a cheap newspaper, so what else could you expect? _A job_. I was expecting a job. It was a cheap and pathetic newspaper with the shoddiest journalists the wizardling world has seen, and they rejected me. I wasn't even good enough for _them_.

I suppose that was it then, wasn't it? My mind raced as I thought of all the other places I had applied to. _Witch Weekly_ didn't want me. _Magical Monthly_ didn't want me. Was my career over before it had even gotten a chance to begin? Oh, hell. Who was I kidding? I didn't have a career. Careers were for driven people who had ambitions and things to achieve, families to support…I didn't really have any of that. I only wanted to do journalism because I thought it would be fun. I would get to meet interesting, new people, see interesting, new places, and do interesting, new things. And I would get to write about it all. It seemed so perfect and unlike a job at all; it hardly seemed like work. Maybe that was why I didn't get hired anywhere. They could all probably see right through me and my applications…they probably knew me, or people like me, who didn't take things seriously. I didn't even take myself seriously most of the time. And they probably all picked up on that and used it against me. Careers were for serious people, after all, weren't they?

* * *

Professor Lupin had been passing back our homework assignments when I stumbled into class five minutes after it had started. I had been so distracted by my utter failure at life to even notice when the Great Hall had emptied out. In fact, I wouldn't have noticed if it hadn't been for Professor McGonagall, who had tapped me on the shoulder on her way out of the Great Hall and curtly told me that breakfast was over and that I best be on my way to class. 

"Tardy," Professor Lupin said absently as he stopped by the door to give me my homework assignment. "Five points from Hufflepuff. I see Denise isn't with you. Is she not coming to class today?"

"No, she's not feeling well." I replied, glancing around the room for an empty seat. "I have her homework though. She told me to give it to you."

"Very well."

I sunk into my seat and pulled out my notebook. Not even glancing at the grade on my homework assignment, I tucked it away and began copying the notes Lupin had already put on the board.

_Inferi_

Oh great. As if this day wasn't sucky enough. Now we had to make it morbid. I sat there, staring blankly at the board for a few minutes as I lamented on my choice to attend class. I thought about skipping and heading to the dormitories, but then I'd run into Denise and tell her what happened. I really didn't feel like telling her about it, especially when she had a volcano on the verge of erupting in her stomach…

_The Inferius (pl: inferi) is an animated corpse…_

What the hell was I going to do come graduation? Move back home and just hang out there? Use Mum's connections and get a job at St. Mungo's? Use Dad's connections at the ministry and get a job there? Oh, how pathetic was I to resort to something like that…

…_use of fire to drive Inferi away…_

Anyway, I wasn't sure how strong those "connections" were…neither of them was _that_ high up in their departments. I mean, Dad knew Cornelius Fudge, but it wasn't like he and Dad were playing Exploding Snap together on Friday nights or anything…

Oh, this was hopeless. I didn't have that great a chance at getting a job at either place just because my parents worked there. And oh man. My parents. They knew I had gotten a few rejections, but they didn't know that this was pretty much it…that the writer's market had absolutely no room for me. How was I going to tell them this? How was I going to tell Denise? How was I going to tell anyone that I had failed at getting a job? It was too humiliating. Dumber people than me have landed jobs. It wasn't fair. What the hell did they have that I didn't have? More motivation and seriousness, I'm guessing.

Huh. As humiliating as it would be to tell my parents that I was an unemployed disgrace, right now I wanted nothing more than to be at home with my parents. But it was 8:30 in the morning. They were both at work, because they both had _jobs_. Oh, but being at home…it was the best hiding place in the world, except when you were trying to get away from your family. But right now my family was the only people I was even remotely willing to fall back on; the only people I was willing to burst into tears in front of…because they wouldn't just pat me on the shoulder sympathetically and tell me repeatedly that it was going to be ok. They would actually mean it. Mum would probably give me a hug and make soup for me, and try to make light of the whole situation, insisting that the entire writing industry was full of wankers who didn't know the difference between 'further' and 'farther.' My dad would probably roll his eyes and say she wasn't being very helpful, and then proceed to telling me stories about all of his life's failures and all the failures he met and how they all later grew up to become success stories. The stories probably wouldn't make me feel much better, but they would be a good distraction. Just knowing that my parents probably wouldn't be completely disgusted and repulsed by my inability to find a stupid job was comforting enough.

I knew it was probably stupid, but I just imagined everyone else in the world looking down on me for not being able to find work. Denise – though she would be sympathetic about it. Cedric would be sympathetic too, but then he would probably go home and tell his parents, and then his dad would probably try to assure me that when Cedric got a job as dictator of the world, he could probably do me a favor and find some odd job for me. Ah. Amos Diggory. He always meant well…but he came off as a complete ass at times. Well, just when it came to showcasing his beloved son. I shook my head as I imagined Madeline Johnson getting a job as a supermodel and posing for _Witch Weekly_, simpering as she told her photographers that she knew a girl who wanted to write for their magazine, but then she'd conveniently forget my surname…or knowing her, my first name too.

"Suzie?"

Oh, the idea of Madeline being employed before me has got to be the most depressing thought of all…

"Suzie?"

I jumped at hearing my name. Glancing up, I realized I was still in class. Professor Lupin was standing over me. Oh God. Did he just call on me to answer a question? There wasn't any point in trying anymore, was there? I wasn't going to work after I graduated…there wasn't any use to this...I should just shrug and say that I didn't know the answer because I wasn't listening. Wonder if Lupin will finally lose it and resolve to giving me a detention for having the attention span of a moth…

"I don't know…" I muttered, glancing down at my notebook.

"Sorry?" Lupin asked.

"I don't know the answer." God. Leave me alone already. Move on. Go ask Percy! He'll know! He knows everything, including when he'll be starting at his new job at the ministry…

"Er…Suzie, I dismissed class two minutes ago."

I glanced up again; this time I took a look around. Save for Lupin and I, the room was empty. Woops.

"Oh! I'm sorry…I was just"—I quickly picked up my things and reached for my bag—"sorry. I sort of zoned out for a little"—

"Please, keep sitting." Lupin said, gently waving his hand down to indicate that I should leave my bag on the ground. I dropped my bag and looked up at him, trying to decide if I should force a smile at him. But forced smiles always looked so creepy…

"What's wrong?" he asked.

I smiled automatically as I shook my head, trying to laugh off my ADD. "Nothing! I just zoned out for"—

"The entire class period." He interjected, frowning at me. "You've been looking as thought something's bothering you."

He was looking at me concernedly, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. He _knew _I was a weird, neurotic little fan of his…yet that didn't scare him away. He was still concerned.

"Now, it's none of my business of course, I know that. But…if there is something that's bothering you…" he said, trailing off as he pulled the desk next to me closer so he could take a seat by me.

God. I almost wanted to tell him everything. Tell him I was a reject and that no magazine or newspaper in the wizarding world wanted me. Tell him that I felt hopelessly alone when my crush had a girlfriend, my best friend had a boyfriend, and my professor was just…my professor. He couldn't be anything for me but my professor. He couldn't be my friend or my boyfriend…he couldn't force any of those guys down at the places I applied to hire me…he was just…Professor Lupin. He couldn't do anything for me. Yet I had a burning desire to tell him everything. The only problem was that I didn't know where to begin. Too much was going through my head; too much uncertainty had piled up over the course of this year, like a stack of blocks. I didn't know which block to pull out first, because I knew that whichever one I chose, the stack would inevitably come crashing down.

I shrugged and let out a sigh. "Well…"

Courage, Suzie. Just say something.

Professor Lupin leaned forward slightly in his seat. "Yes?"

It was too hard to pull out a few words to describe what was wrong. The tower of crap I had been trying to balance came crashing down. Dropping my face into my hands, I burst into tears.


	18. Chocolate Covered Lucius

**_A/N: Apologizing is just so commonplace now, isn't it? Although this time my excuse for taking forever isn't just "I'm busy" or "I was feeling lazy". :P I've sort of been in a weird funk for a while, and it's been hard to be productive with anything, especially with writing. I just sat down the other day though and said to myself, "OK. Must crank out chapter." So here it is! Oh, and also..since it's been a while...let me refresh thy memories with a few snippets from the previous chapter to bring you guys back up to speed:_**

"**Roger's fifteen. He's an ass." Oliver said with a yawn.**

**I raised an eyebrow, feeling slightly amused (though confused as well) at Oliver's comment. "Er…care to elaborate on that?" I asked.**

**Oliver grinned. "He's fifteen—"**

"**That's been established…"**

"**The concept of an Adam's apple is still pretty new to him. So is the concept of a relationship. If you're a fifteen year old guy, the only thing that relationships with a girl entail is snogging."**

**I nodded. I didn't really know what to say to that. It was true, that was for sure…and I already knew that…sort of. I certainly didn't think about that when I considered going out with Roger, but fifteen year old boys not being ready for real relationships didn't feel like news to me.**

"**So…are you saying, by the time a guy hits seventeen or eighteen, like yourself, he's mature enough to handle a more…er…complex relationship?**

**Oliver shrugged, smiling slightly. It was almost a little sheepish. Aw! So cute! No, seriously…it was adorable. Words couldn't even begin to describe just how cute it was. "Nah. Guys usually take forever to not just figure out, but also feel comfortable with a relationship like that. I mean, not all guys, but a lot of guys."**

"**What about you?"**

**Hmm. I wondered if that was a bit much…**

"**I hate periods, Suzie. I really, really hate them. I don't want them."**

**I smiled slightly as I found Lupin's assignment and stuck it in my own bag. "Well, be happy this one time that you got it."**

"**Why?"**

"**Well, considering your little…uh…extracurricular activities, I would be worried for you if you hadn't gotten it." I said with a grin.**

**Denise glared at me as she got up to leave.**

**Chuckling as she stormed off, muttering something about not letting me be the godmother, I took another sip of my milk. Well, that was fun. Though I was admittedly disappointed that she wouldn't be coming with me to class…Denise was something of a safety blanket for me in Lupin's class. I wasn't sure why her presence made me feel safer in around Lupin. It wasn't like he was going to jump on my desk and demand that I admit my feelings for him in front of the class if Denise wasn't there…but still. Her being there was somewhat reassuring.**

**With my mind occupied on the images of Lupin jumping on top of my desk as a dramatic confrontation and attempt to break the sexual tension between us (I knew there wasn't any on his side, but hello! Lupin was jumping on top of a desk. Anything could go in this fantasy world, ok?) I barely noticed the morning mail landing on top of my empty plate. I absently picked up the small pile of letters as I imagined Professor Lupin confessing his love for me.**

**Hmm. Postcard from mum and dad. One of my mum's best friends was getting remarried (for the sixth time. She was only forty years old. Seriously) in Vienna, so they were spending a few days there. I glanced over their note. They seemed to be doing fine. Mum was apparently trying to convince Dad that they were still young enough to have another baby…Dad was in love with the rich history of Vienna and was desirous of taking Mum there again, along with me, and even my sister and her husband if they could get away from work. Huh. Cool. Vienna sounded like fun.**

**I looked at the picture on the other side; it was some old muggle opera house that they had visited. Dad was really into opera, and had managed to get Mum into it as well, though she definitely wasn't as crazy about it as Dad was. My sister and I loathed it—one of the few things we had in common. I had this image of my family squeezed into some stuffy auditorium, listening to bearded men and women with large breasts and ball gowns sing in Italian. Hmm. Actually, that would be kind of interesting. Maybe I could get an extra ticket and invite Oliver along…you know, return the favor to him. Heh.**

**Yeah, I know. Not a chance.**

**I glanced at the other letter in my hand, and I immediately felt my pulse race. The Merlin Post. Finally, one of the last remaining places which I was counting on for a job offer. Fingers shaking, I tore off the waxy seal and unfolded the parchment.**

**Dear Ms. Hennessey:**

**We appreciate you applying for the position of Reporter at The Merlin Post. Unfortunately we interviewed many applicants in the job search process and hired another individual whose credentials and qualifications were better suited for our needs. Thus we will not be offering you the position, but thank you for your interest.**

**If a need arises for us to contact you in the future, we will do so and you have our continued good wishes.**

**Very truly yours,**

**Judy Willoughby**

**Editor – in – Chief**

**He was looking at me concernedly, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. He knew I was a weird, neurotic little fan of his…yet that didn't scare him away. He was still concerned.**

"**Now, it's none of my business of course, I know that. But…if there is something that's bothering you…" he said, trailing off as he pulled the desk next to me closer so he could take a seat by me.**

**God. I almost wanted to tell him everything. Tell him I was a reject and that no magazine or newspaper in the wizarding world wanted me. Tell him that I felt hopelessly alone when my crush had a girlfriend, my best friend had a boyfriend, and my professor was just…my professor. He couldn't be anything for me but my professor. He couldn't be my friend or my boyfriend…he couldn't force any of those guys down at the places I applied to hire me…he was just…Professor Lupin. He couldn't do anything for me. Yet I had a burning desire to tell him everything. The only problem was that I didn't know where to begin. Too much was going through my head; too much uncertainty had piled up over the course of this year, like a stack of blocks. I didn't know which block to pull out first, because I knew that whichever one I chose, the stack would inevitably come crashing down.**

**I shrugged and let out a sigh. "Well…"**

**Courage, Suzie. Just say something.**

**Professor Lupin leaned forward slightly in his seat. "Yes?"**

**It was too hard to pull out a few words to describe what was wrong. The tower of crap I had been trying to balance came crashing down. Dropping my face into my hands, I burst into tears.**

* * *

Chapter Eighteen: Chocolate-Covered Lucius

* * *

I loathed fairy tales that depicted heroines being comforted by their princes. The girl was always beautiful, even when she cried. Seriously. They were always crying so gracefully and daintily, and somehow the princes always loved the damsels in distress even more when they cried all beautifully. Nothing could be farther from reality. At the moment I was extremely conscious of how gross my face was. I was sniffing and sobbing; tears were slopping down my face and I was fighting to keep the snot from running out of my nose. Fairy tale princesses obviously couldn't have been that upset with their dilemmas if they were never able to really bawl it out like an out of control toddler. Especially in front of their Prince Charmings.

"Suzie…" Lupin murmured.

My head was bowed down, partly in shame and partly to conceal the mess my face had become. I didn't want him to see me. I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eyes and tell him I was a failure. I felt him leaning forward in his chair.

"Suzie," he started again, "what's the matter?"

I shrugged as I sniffed rather loudly. I really wanted to form the words at this point, but I didn't know how to. My grasp on the English language seemed to have slipped away. Where to start…how to adequately sum up my feelings…

"Here you go."

I glanced up, and saw that Professor Lupin had conjured a box of tissues, and was offering me one. I muttered a "thanks" and took one.

"I have nothing!" I found myself exclaiming as I blew my nose. Oh, wonderful start. I knew I was being dramatic. I didn't have nothing, per say. There were a million people out there in the world whose suffering was a million times greater than my own, but I couldn't help but feel like my life was empty and meaningless right now. I had nothing going for me.

"What do you mean?" he asked, furrowing his brows, still leaning expectantly.

I shrugged again, not bothering to wipe the new tears that had begun to roll down my face. "I have nothing. I got a rejection letter today from _The Merlin Post_."

Lupin frowned. "Suzie, I'm sorry to hear that…"

"I can't believe I got rejected by them. They hire trolls, for Merlin's sake." I muttered, wiping my cheeks with the sleeve of my shirt.

"I'm surprised too." Lupin said with a small sigh. "But you're much too good for them, Suzie. You'll get hired by someone even better than that. Mark my words."

Probably to Lupin's dismay, this statement made me cry even harder.

"No I won't." I cried, burying my face in my hands once more.

Lupin dropped his head slightly, leveling it with my own head. "Suzie, I know you're upset about this, and that's completely understandable, but you have to be optimistic about this. You applied to a dozen other places, and I'm sure you're destined to work for one of them. And any of them would be ten times better than The Post."

I shook my head, still crying. "No. No, none of them want me. They've all turned me down."

Silence.

The moment had come, where I would finally have to confess to Lupin of my lies, of how I had gotten rejected by almost everyone even before he started casually asking me after classes if I had heard from anyone yet. He'd know now that I was a liar. And insecure liar. And a loser. That's what I had become, hadn't I? I was an unemployed loser…or a soon-to-be unemployed loser anyway.

"What are you talking about?" Lupin finally said, scooting his chair over slightly so we were face to face, rather than side by side. "You've heard from everyone? Already?"

I nodded, sniffing loudly. "They all turned me down. _Witch Weekly, The Merlin Post, Magical Monthly_…no one wants me, Professor Lupin. I'm going to have to find another career."

"What about _The Daily Prophet_?"

I shrugged, recalling the terribly fated interview I had at Hogsmeade many weeks ago. "I got an interview with them a while back, but it went horribly. They never even bothered to get back to me, that's how far off I must have been from getting the job. It's hopeless…it's just hopeless. I'm hopeless."

Lupin offered me another tissue. "Oh, don't say that. You're not—"

"You've got to be bloody kidding me," I snapped, dabbing the scrunched up tissue at my eyes. "I have nothing going for me. Nothing. No job, no stupid boyfriend—"

Damn.

I glanced up at Professor Lupin. He shifted slightly in his chair. Oh great. What the hell have I done?

I shook my head into my hand, feeling a new wave of tears welling up in my eyes. "I'm sorry."

He didn't say anything.

Not bothering to look up at him, I shut my eyes, squeezing the tears out and allowing them to slide onto my hands, which were still cupping my face. "I'm sorry I said that." I muttered. "You don't care about my personal life and I have no business getting into that with you. Hell, I don't have any business breaking down like this, do I? I feel like such an idiot, crying in front of you..."

I removed my hands from my face but continued to look down. I felt weary from the crying, and my sudden "I-don't-have-a-boyfriend" slip had made me go warm. Great. My face was wet and red. All we needed now was for Oliver to burst in here to really complete the scene.

Lupin passed me another tissue. "You're quite mistaken, Suzie." he said slowly, clasping his hands together and resting them on his desk. "You are many things, but an idiot is not one of them. You're upset...you've clearly had all this bottled up for a while...and you just burst. It happens to the best of us. Don't feel ashamed of that."

I shrugged a little and shook my head as I wiped my nose with the tissue he had given me. He was just saying that. He had to be nice to me. He was my professor and I was his disillusioned student. Oh, this was just too humiliating. Here I was, sitting in a desk across from Professor Lupin, bawling like a toddler because I couldn't get my life together. And it wasn't anyone's fault but my own, right? Of course. I knew that. Lupin knew that too. Lord knows what he must have thought of me now. Stupid. Ditzy. Emotionally unbalanced. Lonely and hormonal. I sighed and let out another sob as the mental list went on. I was pathetic.

My head was bowed so I couldn't look directly at Professor Lupin, but it was lifted enough that I could get a glimpse of him. He shifted in his chair. He was uncomfortable. I could sense it. I should have just made an excuse to go. Run out of the class. Owl my parents and finish the remainder of the term at Beauxbatons...

"Suzie--"

Lupin had leaned forward and rested his hand on my shoulder as he said my name, startling me. It wasn't a firm grip, but I was extremely conscious of his fingers pressed into my shoulder, gently pushing me away from him in order to look me in the eye.

"Everything will turn out fine, you'll see. And," he continued, seeing that I was shaking my head in disagreement, "you're young. You have so much time ahead of you to establish your career, to settle down..."

I rolled my eyes. "Easy for you to say, you have a career."

Professor Lupin removed his hand from my shoulder and leaned back, smiling slightly. "I suppose you've been under the impression that I came to Hogwarts from some remote place with years of steady teaching experience under my belt."

I glanced at him, not really sure of what to say to that. I had never really considered his background. He taught us as if he had been teaching for years; I suppose I had just assumed that he had been working at some obscure wizarding school somewhere or the other prior to Hogwarts. I didn't give it much thought.

He shook his head, still smiling, though there was now a sort of rueful look to it. "I know about unsteadiness when it comes to jobs, Suzie, believe me. I've been there. I think we've all been there. Unsteady careers. Unhappy careers. They happen, and the only thing you can do--the only thing you should do, really--is keep pushing forward...and at some point, things just start coming together. They always do."

I nodded slowly. In all honesty, that didn't really make me feel much better. Not the pushing forward part. The part about Lupin being able to relate to career unsteadiness, however, managed to distract me from my miseries though. I couldn't believe that I had never wondered about his teaching background. Where he worked, what he did, how long he lasted, why he left...I was just a few notches below stalking Professor Lupin out of sheer admiratoin of the man, and I had never bothered to think about his life and career before Hogwarts. Not that I was in much of a place to ask him about it or anything right now.

"I still feel stupid though." I muttered, thinking back to my "I don't have a boyfriend" confession. Of all the things we women tried are utmost to hide from men, it was our utter despair at being alone. I wasn't sure why we did it, but the idea of a guy knowing we were miserable because we had no partner was just unbearable. It was too humiliating. And now Lupin knew. He knew I couldn't get Oliver and that I had settled with Roger. He now knew that I wasn't with Roger anymore, and that I was alone now.

"And I feel bad that I'm venting on you," I continued, realizing that comforting sobbing teenagers probably wasn't Lupin's forte and that he probably needed some time to figure out what to say, "all of this has just been bothering me for so long...and...Denise...I can't talk to her."

Feeling more tears coming on as Lupin asked me what I meant by that, I grabbed another tissue and shrugged. "She has everything. She's perfect. She doesn't understand what it's like to have limitations. I'm not as smart as her...not as...pretty," I found myself spitting as I bowed my head again, not daring to look at Lupin as I said that, "she has Vince now, she doesn't need me...but I don't have anyone and I still need her..."

I dropped my now crumpled up tissue on my desk and grabbed a fresh tissue. A part of me couldn't believe that I was spilling all of this to Lupin. I would regret this tomorrow, no doubt --hell, I would regret this in a few hours--but then part of me was also surprised at how easy and natural it felt, confiding in him.

Lupin was quiet for a few moments, staring at his desk. Ok. Maybe the ease of conversation was a one-sided thing only to be felt like me.

"So," he said, finally glancing up to see me, "you're no longer with Roger then?"

I shook my head. "I didn't like him much."

"Ah."

He was looking down again.

"I never really cared for him," I said, trying to choose my words carefully now, which was honestly a first for me. But Lupin was being sweet and kind to me, and I didn't want to make him uncomfortable around me. I suppose that's kind of laughable, considering that I broke down in front of him and just told him some of my darker secrets. This whole situation was pretty uncomfortable for him, wasn't it?

Lupin nodded. "You just wanted to be with someone."

I nodded. Head bowed. Oh, there's that whole feeling of shame at being a lonely woman again. Lovely. I suppose it wouldn't be so bad if he felt all sympathetic about it and snogged me to make me feel attractive...but alas, he was a prudent professor. Only in my dreams could that happen.

"Don't beat yourself down about it. I think everyone comes to feel like that at some point or another." Lupin said. He opened his mouth again and looked like he was going to elaborate, but then he shut his mouth and smiled. "And I know it can be difficult, especially when your friends, and I daresay your best friend is in a relationship and is giving her time and affections to someone else besides you. But just be patient. One day you'll meet someone who's...worth your time."

He was looking at me so earnestly, as if he actually believed in what he was saying. Huh. Maybe he did believe all of that.

I felt the side of my mouth twist up into a half-smile. He smiled back. "You'll be fine, Suzie. I know it."

"Thanks," I said with a small nod. "Thanks...for everything, Professor...for being here, and listening..."

His smile broadened a little. "I'm here to serve my students."

"...and...thanks for...well, the other day...when I fell down the stairs. Thanks for saving me. I could've killed myself out of sheer clumsiness." I added, rolling my eyes.

Lupin laughed. "You're hardly clumsy. I suspect you had felt distracted since Roger had been with you only moments before."

I shrugged as I recalled the incident. Roger had walked me to Potions, but stopped at the top of the staircase that led to Snape's classroom, claiming he didn't want to walk me further because he didn't like the smells of all the potions. He kissed me, I swooned a little, Lupin walked in on us. Roger had left, Lupin and I had talked for a bit, and then I tripped over as I walked down the steps, and Lupin had cast a spell to catch me only moments later. And then he walked me all the way to the hospital wing.

"He wasn't really a distraction," I said suddenly, frowning. "I was never really attracted to him."

"Oh."

"Er, I mean, he wasn't that attracted to me either. I mean, the day I fell, he was walking me to Potions, but he stopped at the staircase because he didn't like the smell of Snape's classroom." I explained. I didn't want him thinking I was some snooty girl who used Roger to pass time or something. "That shows he didn't care much for me."

Lupin cocked an eyebrow at me. "I don't know about that..."

"I mean, you on the other hand, you took me to the hospital wing when I fell! You didn't have to do that..."

"Well, you were hurt..." Lupin replied slowly, lowering his head the same way when I had first mentioned Roger a few minutes before. It then occurred to me: I was comparing Roger to him. Ex-boyfriend (sort of) being compared to my professor. Who I had a crush on. Who knew I had a crush on him. Oh, the sirens were going off in my head now.

"I mean," I started quickly, determined to salvage the conversation from the awkward direction it was speeding towards, "I know you guys aren't the same. You're my professor, and he was...well, he wasn't. But walking someone to their destination is the polite thing to do, and if you cared three straws for a girl, you wouldn't mind walking her to a smelly potions room if that's where she needed to go."

Lupin didn't say anything at first, and I felt my heart race. I hadn't made he situation better, had I? He had just taken all this time to make me feel better, and now I was repaying him by making him feel all awkward! This was horrible. I needed to do something.

I shrugged. "But anyway, it doesn't matter, right? I'm not with him anymore."

Lupin slowly nodded. "Right."

"I just hope the next idiot who comes along to ask me out has the sense to walk me to places and hold doors open for me and do all that other gentlemanly crap." I said, forcing a grin in hopes of making light of the situation. Luckily, it worked. Lupin laughed, and we both stood up. Our conversation had ended, awkward-free. Well, for the most part, which was still pretty victorious in my book, I have to say.

"Well," Lupin said as I bent over to grab my bag, "in order to avoid being tagged as a senseless idiot, allow me to walk you to the door."

I couldn't help but laugh as I followed him to the door. Several flirty replies came to mind, but I fought the urge to use any of them as I was pretty desirous myself to leave his classroom without looking like a senseless idiot. So I simply thanked him again, received a small nod and a smile in return, and I headed on my way. I looked at my watch and realized I was twenty minutes late for transfiguration. I had forgotten to ask Professor Lupin to write me an excuse note, so there wasn't any point in showing up to class only to get told off by Professor McGonagall, was there? Of course not. Skiving off the remainder of the hour it is then.

* * *

"Damn. I'm an idiot. I should have brought some bread. It goes well with soup."

Denise laughed as she sat up in her bed. "You're so sweet, Suzie. You didn't have to do this."

I rested the tray of food on Denise's nightstand so I could help her adjust her pillows so she could recline while sitting. "Course I did. You have your period, I'm a reject, and we're both academic fugitives right now. We need comfort food. Soup, pasta, mashed potatoes, and loads of chocolate for dessert is the way to go."

Denise frowned. "You're not a reject, Suzie. It's like Lupin said, it'll work out in the end."

I sighed as I climbed into bed with Denise and slowly arranged the tray of food between us. After my talk with Lupin, I went back to my dormitory, only to find Denise curled up into a ball in her bed, moaning in pain from her period cramps. She had been surprised to see me, thinking I had been in class. I ended up telling her about my letter from the _Merlin Post_ and my breakdown in front of Lupin. I left out the mention of Denise though, reducing it to a few comments about how I felt lonely, not having a boyfriend. She had looked pained from her cramps, but upset by everything I had told her; in short, we had one very miserable-looking Denise clutching her stomach and demanding why I had been hesitant to confide in her before ("I'm your best friend! I actually resent Professor Lupin for comforting you before me!")

Her stomach had then rumbled loudly, and so I ran to the kitchens (bless those Weasley twins and their susceptibility to bribes and their extensive knowledge about the castle) and asked one of the house elves for some food. Denise hadn't had much breakfast, and I was just plain depressed, so I brought back enough for the both of us. It was funny though, that in the midst of all the misery, it was kind of nice to skive off with Denise and just sit with her and talk.

"Yeah, I guess," I said as I popped the lid off the container of soup and handed Denise a spoon. "I just hate this uncertainty though. And I really want to talk to my parents to get their advice, but they're still in Vienna, and I'd hate to bother them while they're relaxing. So I'll have to wait a few more days til they get back before writing them...and--" I sighed, grabbing a spoon and digging it into the container of mashed potatoes--"I don't know. I just don't know what to do. I don't know what I want to do with my life."

Denise had been helping herself to mashed potatoes when she dropped her spoon in the container and grinned. "Oh, Suzie! Oliver's dad!"

I cocked an eyebrow at Denise. "What about him?"

"Remember? I told you he owns Obscurus Books! That's one of the biggest publishers in our world!"

"Right...but I don't see how--

"You should talk to Oliver about it!" she said excitedly. "Maybe he could talk you up to his dad and see if they have anything there for you."

I laughed. "You're mad, Denise. I could never ask Oliver to do that."

"Why not? He seems keener on you these days. I mean, he asked you to go to the Weird Sisters concert with you--"

"...after Madeline suggested that he take me." I cut in.

"He didn't have to listen to her though." Denise said with a grin. "And the fact that he lied that one time to walk with you back to the castle from Hogsmeade? Suzie, I think you're afraid of being wrong, or you just don't want to flatter yourself, but it's pretty clear that he's becoming interested in you."

"I don't know--"

"It might be a mild interest," Denise continued, "I mean, who knows...but at the very least, he has to like you as a friend. And friends are always willing to help each other out. You should just talk to him."

Trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach that had taken flight the moment Denise had suggested that Oliver might like me, I shook my head. "Come on Denise. I can't talk to him about that. I mean, aside from the fact that it's just humiliating to tell Oliver, 'hey, I've been rejected from every other job I've applied to, so can you hook me up with something at your dad's company?' Oh God, and how would I explain how I know his dad owns Obscurus Books? He would think I'm some sort of crazy stalker! And I don't think Oliver and I are that good of friends anyway, you know? Besides, he seems to have a really weird relationship going with his dad. It might be awkward for him to go to his dad with a favor like that. Plus, I don't know how I'd feel working for him. I know all this stuff about him now." I added, remembering the bits and pieces Denise had gotten from Vince about Mr. Wood being a disagreeable sort of man.

Denise shrugged. "It's just a suggestion. I think if the opportunity ever arose where you could say something to Oliver without it being too weird, you should say something. I mean, it's Obscurus Books! It's huge...most of our textbooks are coming out of there. And I know it's not exactly the same as having a job where you get to write, but at least it's somewhat related. If you worked there, or for any publisher, you'd get some experience in seeing what publishers expect of writers, you know?"

I nodded, popping a truffle into my mouth. "I know. I'll see."

Truth be told, the prospects of working for a huge publishing company like Obscurus Books was kind of exciting. Not as great as being a journalist writing for a newspaper or magazine, but it was still interesting. But the prospects of doing anything Denise suggested sent my heart racing. Talking to Oliver. Working for his dad. Oliver liking me...maybe. Oh, that was a huge maybe. It was too hard to tell, especially since he was still dating Madeline. Gosh, and you know what's really sad? I was currently more anxious about the uncertainty of Oliver's feelings for me than the uncertainty of where my career was going to go. And I hated to admit it, but somehow I saw myself not being as upset about all my job rejections if I had Oliver to lean on.

Denise too had moved on to the truffles, and had just finished swallowing one when she had reached for another. "Ooh. You know, the Slytherin versus Gryffindor quidditch match is coming up in a few weeks." she said.

"So?" I asked, examining the remaining chocolates in the box one of the house elves in the kitchen had given me. I really wanted a creme-filled one...

Denise rolled her eyes. "You should try bonding him with over that. I mean, our whole house will be rooting for Gryffindor...it won't be anything unusual if you support him."

It was my turn to roll my eyes. "You know who else is a Hufflepuff though? His girlfriend. They can have their own disgusting version of team spirit together." I had nothing specifically perverted in mind when I said that, but the very statement made me think of sex. I mean, sex between Oliver and Madeline. Ok, ew. Let me clarify. Whether or not there was sex between the two. Yes, that's what I meant. It made me wonder if they had ever done it. I asked Denise, who was taken by surprise by my question and ended up choking on her truffle.

"I don't know!" Denise exclaimed as she wiped the bits of moist chocolate that had flown out of her mouth into her hands. "I doubt it. Where could they possibly do it? We have very tight security in this castle. And...I don't know. I can't see Madeline doing it with him."

I rolled my eyes. "Why not? She seems trampy enough to sleep with some guy she's only been dating for a few months."

Woops.

Denise's glance immediately dropped to her lap. Oh man. I was an idiot. How could I have let something like that slip?

"I mean, not trampy..." I said hurriedly. "I just meant--"

"Do you see me that way too?" Denise suddenly asked.

"No, of course not! It's different, Denise. You and Vince...I know you guys haven't been dating long, but you guys were ready! You guys connect! Madeline and Oliver are different. Their relationship is completely superficial. Madeline is a superficial person; I doubt she loves Oliver, and I highly doubt he loves her. That's why it's trampy if they were sleeping together."

There was a long pause where I wondered if Denise was going to throw her hot soup at me and thunder out of our room. But then she slowly nodded. "You're more Hufflepuff than Madeline. And you like quidditch more than she does. Oliver would probably be able to connect with you better over the quidditch match than he could with Madeline."

I nodded as well and took a lumpy-looking chocolate that probably had nuts in it. We spent the rest of the hour discussing how to use the upcoming quidditch match to bond with Oliver. But somehow, even as Denise joked about letting Cedric in on my crush so he could teach me how to impress Oliver with quidditch-talk, there was a trace of sadness on her face. Convincing myself that the cause was her cramps and not anything I had said, we laughed and schemed until Transfiguration had ended and I needed to leave for Potions.

* * *

Nearly a week had gone by since my little incident with Lupin. I was happy to report that things were not awkward with us (he was sweet enough to act as if nothing had happened by treating me like some sort of emotionally balanced woman in class), Denise's period was over, and I my utter depression had shifted to something of a manic-depressed state. No worries, that's supposed to be a good thing. I think. I mean, before I was just really, really depressed and all I could think about was how much my life sucked. Now I was just moody. Slightly giddy at the recollection of Lupin comforting me, uncontrollably giddy whenever I remembered the brief moment he had put his hand on my shoulder. Over the top, dancing-naked-in-the-Forbidden-Forest happy when I thought of the possibility of Oliver taking an interest in me. But then every so often, I would remind myself that Oliver's liking me was a huge maybe, and that it really didn't matter so long as he was going out with Madeline. And then I would remind myself that as sweet as Lupin was, he was my professor and nothing more. His comforting me and being kind to me signified nothing more than his general decency towards others. And then of course, the thing that really capped the mood swings was the uncertainty of where I was going to end up in June. My parents had just recently gotten back from Vienna, so I wrote them to tell them the news. They wrote back yesterday, actually, and were really supportive, just as I had expected them to be. "We'll help you find something, don't worry." My dad had written. "And even if you don't find something right away, it might be nice to have some time off. Maybe you could travel…or even try volunteering at different places like the ministry or the hospital…you might find yourself rethinking your career choices."

Things like blood and human anatomy kind of disgusted me, so I thought working with Mum at St. Mungo's was out of the question. Dad worked at the ministry though, and their work was somewhat interesting. It wasn't my ideal place to work, but I wasn't really in a position to be picky though, was I? Besides, there was like a million different types of departments and subgroups at the ministry, I was sure I could find something to do. Plus, let us not forget the oh-so-deliciously-evil Lucius Malfoy. He was one of the governors and was therefore pretty high up and I would almost never see him if I were doing anything at the ministry, but still. An occasional glimpse of eye candy like him would have been a huge perk to working at the ministry. Mmm. Candy. Chocolate. Lucius dipped in chocolate. No. The sexy black auror guy at the ministry dipped in chocolate. I felt like my dad had told me his name a few months ago, but I couldn't remember it. Something with chains in his name. Oh, no, shackles! Shacklebolt! Yes, that was his surname. Shacklebolt dipped in chocolate. Him and Lucius. In a bowl. I would get a spoon. Now we're talking.

Feeling slightly uplifted at the thought of Lucius and Shacklebolt swimming in a giant bowl of chocolate, I couldn't help but smile pleasantly as I headed to the owlery this afternoon. I had written back to my parents, and had asked my dad to make inquiries at the ministry for paid jobs or internships…whatever they had. I climbed the stone staircase that led to the tower where the owls resided, and as I drew closer I automatically closed my nose and started breathing through my mouth. I hated the smell of the owlery. No offense to the owls. Although I supposed they wouldn't have been offended. They could care less about how they smelled.

I gently opened the door, not wanting to startle any of the owls or anyone else in the owlery, though I wasn't expecting any student to be in here at this time. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and most people were still in class. Professor Flitwick had dismissed us early from Charms so the only people who were free right now were mainly seventh year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors and a few other random upperclassmen who had free periods. It turned out I wasn't the only person sending a letter though; there was a boy sitting on the ledge of one of the stone-framed windows, stroking a tawny owl that was perched on his knee. It took me a few seconds to realize it was Oliver.

"Hi." He said, glancing up to see me.

The owl took off through the window at the noise. I couldn't help but wonder how a guy as burly as Oliver could curl himself so gracefully into the frame of the window.

"Hi," I squeaked. Oh, the squeaky voice would never leave me, would it? I really thought I had gotten past that phase around Oliver. "Sending mail too, then?"

Oliver pulled his head back slightly to rest it against the window frame. "Nope. I was returning an owl that came to me after the morning post."

I nodded, and realizing I was still standing right in front of the entrance to the owlery, I took a few steps forward, careful to not step in any owl droppings, and glanced around for a serviceable owl. "And you just thought you'd hang around because you love how it smells in here?"

Oliver let out a small laugh, but after that he didn't say anything. He was just sitting there on the ledge, staring out the open window. I picked a dark brown owl I recognized to have delivered mail to me before and beckoned it. While it rested on my shoulder, I tied my letter to its leg. Or attempted to anyway, and ended up tying my finger in with it. I had been kind of distracted by the sight of Oliver sitting in front of me like that. He looked so…serene. Or depressed. It was hard to tell which.

I slowly made my way to the window next to Oliver's and bent over a little, leaning into the window. "Off you go." I said quietly as the owl took off from my shoulder and flew out the window.

"Who were you writing to?"

I glanced up at Oliver. He was still curled against the frame of the window, digging his toes into the crevices between the frame and the ledge.

"My parents," I replied, making my way to him. It suddenly occurred to me that Oliver was sitting on the ledge of an open window that was over a hundred feet from the ground. That couldn't have been safe. "Oliver, are you aware that we're like, over a hundred feet from the ground, and you're only inches away from plummeting that distance?"

Oliver simply grinned. The idiot. If I were an enraged psychopath, I could've given him a little push and sent him to his death. Oh wait. Hold on. I think we did have one of those psychopaths on the loose. Can we say Sirius Black? What the hell was wrong with Oliver? Did none of this occur to him?

"So long as you don't push me, I think I'm fine." He replied.

I rolled my eyes at him. "You could easily slip yourself. You should move from there."

Oliver chuckled. "Are you _worried_?"

"So what if I am?" I asked, glaring at him. "I don't particularly want to see what you'd look like after a one hundred foot fall. I imagine it would be kind of gross."

Still smiling, Oliver pulled himself up and hopped onto the straw-covered floor. "Happy?"

"Yes. The party's next week." I replied, rolling my eyes at him again. I watched him as he leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his chest and crossing his right leg over his left. I never realized just how graceful Oliver Wood could move. Seriously, this was my first time noticing it…he was just so fluid and poised in all his movements, like a dancer. I suddenly had this image of Oliver performing in a ballet. Wearing tights, and the little slippers. I wanted to laugh, but something told me that apart from making me look like a weirdo, right now hardly seemed like a time to laugh. Oliver looked rather sullen.

I took a few steps towards Oliver, looking down at my feet to avoid stepping in any of the droppings. "What's up?" I asked when I stopped a few feet away from him.

He shrugged. "Nothing. You?"

I rolled my eyes. "I mean, is everything alright? I've never taken you as the reflecting-in-solitude-amongst-smelly-owls type of guy."

A small gust of wind blew through open windows, and Oliver hugged himself a little from the cold. "It's nothing. I just…I got a letter from my dad. He was just letting me know that he couldn't make it to the next quidditch match. He said he was kind of busy with work."

"Oh."

Oliver shrugged. "It's not a big deal, I know. I mean…I just thought he might've wanted to come, since it's my last match ever at Hogwarts…and our team finally made it to the finals after all these years, you know?"

I nodded. "Sure."

"It's not a big deal." He repeated with a sigh, pivoting his body slightly so he could look out the window again.

I stood there for a moment, not really sure of what to say. I obviously didn't care much for quidditch, but I could see his distress. It was his last match here, I had heard no news of him being picked out to play for the pros or anything, so this might as well have been his last organized match ever. And quidditch was how he and his dad had connected, hadn't it? I remembered Oliver telling me when he and I had walked back from Hogsmeade together. His dad had gotten him his first little broom as a boy, and to this day he still kept it. He had resented my calling it cute.

"It is a big deal." I found myself saying. I cocked an eyebrow at the ceiling. Hmm. I wondered how this was going to go.

Oliver simply glanced at me, looking rather expectant. I bit down on my lip, trying to decide on how to elaborate without mortally offending Oliver. This was going to be hard. He was awfully sensitive about this subject…

"I mean, you have a right to be upset, that's all I meant." I started, "You really wanted him to come because you both share that interest in quidditch. It's only natural that you'd feel disappointed."

He shrugged, pulling himself up and away from the wall he had been leaning against. I was suddenly aware of just how close he and I were standing. "I just…I'm annoyed, I guess. He said before that he'd come. He'd try to bring Mum along too."

I frowned. "Maybe he was really genuinely busy and couldn't get out of his work stuff." I offered, deciding to be a little sympathetic towards Mr. Wood so Oliver wouldn't think his dad was my number one enemy or anything.

"Yeah, maybe." He replied with a sigh. "I don't know how hard he tries though to get out of his work to make time for other things."

I felt my heart race. Oliver Wood was opening up to me. This wasn't really exciting in the I'm-finally-bonding-with-the-love-of-my-life way…more of an I'm-so-glad-he's-finally-talking-to-someone-about-his-life way. He really came off as a closed book. It didn't seem healthy.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"He's…well, he tends to be kind of self-involved." Oliver replied. "He has his own priorities and kind of expects everyone in his life to just go with it. Never mind how anyone else feels or what anyone else wants. Only the things he considers important are worth his time."

Oliver had dropped his arms to his sides. He was glancing around the owlery, as if he were looking for something. I needed to say something. Anything. Well, no, not any thing. Saying anything was what usually got me into trouble. Something comforting. Like relating to him. I could definitely relate to him. My older sister, though I loved her, was kind of selfish like that too. Oh, I could tell him that!

Just as I was about to open my mouth to tell him I understood how he felt, the owlery door swung open. Several owls perching nearby had frantically flown towards the ceiling in fright. Oliver and I turned at once to see who had come in.

Oh, for Merlin's sake.

Madeline Slutty-Long-Legs Johnson had come.

"There you are!" she exclaimed in an exasperated tone. I stared at her for a moment in surprise, but then realized she was talking to Oliver. She had run over to his side. "I've been looking all over for you! Have you been here all this time?"

Oliver nodded, and I couldn't help but notice that he was staring determinedly at the ground. "Yeah. I got a letter earlier. I was just returning the owl."

"Oh, who was the letter from?" she asked, leaning against Oliver and kissing him on the cheek. I could feel my fingers curling themselves into fists.

Oliver finally looked Madeline in the eyes. "My dad." He replied, in what sounded like an obviously dejected tone. Madeline, however, being Madeline, took no notice.

"Oh, ok. Cool. Listen, can you help me with my transfiguration homework?"

I watched for a moment as Oliver agreed to help her, slowly pulling himself out of his sullen mood. A part of me actually wanted to linger, just to see how Oliver treated Madeline, but I knew I no longer had any business staying. I slowly took a few steps away from Madeline and Oliver, debating on whether I should just quietly slip out of the owlery or awkwardly interrupt them just to say goodbye. However, the decision was taken out of my hands when I chanced a glimpse at the pair. My glance immediately fell on Oliver, who was currently occupied with explaining to Madeline some theory about transubstantial transfiguration. He spoke quickly and seemed to be drawn in by the conversation they were having, but as I reached the door Oliver's glance shifted in my direction. He didn't say goodbye, but he waved to me. I smiled and waved back. I turned on my heel to leave, but was forced to do a double take when I saw out of the corner of my eye that Oliver was still looking at me.

* * *

_A/N Part II: Hope you all liked that. : ) The last paragraph...it seriously took me 30 minutes to write. I just couldn't get it to end the way I wanted and it was very frustrating. :( I'm giving up now. Hopefully it works. Lol. Anyway, as I was working on this chapter, I also did some more organizing for the rest of the story, and I'd say I'm about 90 percent certain that I'll end this story with 21 chapters + and epilogue. And…ok, I'm probably going to regret telling you all this, but the idea for a sequel has been rolling around in my head these past couple days. Bah. I've said it now. It's a huge maybe though. I'm a little wary about sequels though (I'm doing one for another story I wrote, and I'm completely stuck now and wishing I never wrote it…lol) so I reserve the right to not go through with it if I think Suzie's life will be boring after this story. :P Anyway. Thanks all for reading, and again, I'm sorry for taking such a long time to update. Leave your email address in a review if you want to be added to my "I finally updated this story" mailing list. ;)_


	19. Kingsley Shacklebolt

Author's Note:

1. I know, I know. I suck at updates, I suck as a person...what else is new? (

2. However, I think you'll enjoy this chapter. It was fun to write. ) Although I didn't get as far as I wanted to, plot-wise, mainly b/c I went off on a tangent when I decided to have Suzie interact with Katie Bell. I decided I liked them together, and unfortunately that little discovery is going to push back this story's ending even further. glares at excited readers I'm already so busy this summer...

grumbles to self about work and stalking sexy professors

3. This chapter is incomplete though. I just wrote and wrote and wrote...and then ran out of steam and felt horrible for not updating in forever. So I thought I'd at least give you this...call it a Part 1. Nothing pivotal happens in this chapter though and that annoys me because I'm afraid of disappointing you all. (

4. Part 1 though means I am currently working on a Part 2, and hope to have that posted some time very soon. Have faith in me. But I understand if you don't...I wouldn't have faith in me. P

5. Also, the whole sequel thing. Yeah, I decided I don't think I'm going to go for it. I have a bunch of other writing projects I want to finish before law school starts, and come August I don't see myself having much time for fanfiction. Maybe the occasional one-shot or short story, perhaps. Anyway, a recap of events is below, just skip past the bold if you don't need it!

* * *

"_**I can't believe I got rejected by them. They hire trolls, for Merlin's sake." I muttered, wiping my cheeks with the sleeve of my shirt.**_

"_**I'm surprised too." Lupin said with a small sigh. "But you're much too good for them, Suzie. You'll get hired by someone even better than that. Mark my words."**_

_**Probably to Lupin's dismay, this statement made me cry even harder.**_

"_**No I won't." I cried, burying my face in my hands once more.**_

_**Lupin dropped his head slightly, leveling it with my own head. "Suzie, I know you're upset about this, and that's completely understandable, but you have to be optimistic about this. You applied to a dozen other places, and I'm sure you're destined to work for one of them. And any of them would be ten times better than The Post."**_

_**I shook my head, still crying. "No. No, none of them want me. They've all turned me down."**_

* * *

_**"I don't know!" Denise exclaimed as she wiped the bits of moist chocolate that had flown out of her mouth into her hands. "I doubt it. Where could they possibly do it? We have very tight security in this castle. And...I don't know. I can't see Madeline doing it with him."**_

_**I rolled my eyes. "Why not? She seems trampy enough to sleep with some guy she's only been dating for a few months."**_

_**Woops.**_

_**Denise's glance immediately dropped to her lap. Oh man. I was an idiot. How could I have let something like that slip?**_

_**"I mean, not trampy..." I said hurriedly. "I just meant--"**_

_**"Do you see me that way too?" Denise suddenly asked.**_

* * *

_**A small gust of wind blew through open windows, and Oliver hugged himself a little from the cold. "It's nothing. I just…I got a letter from my dad. He was just letting me know that he couldn't make it to the next quidditch match. He said he was kind of busy with work."**_

"_**Oh."**_

_**Oliver shrugged. "It's not a big deal, I know. I mean…I just thought he might've wanted to come, since it's my last match ever at Hogwarts…and our team finally made it to the finals after all these years, you know?"**_

_**I nodded. "Sure."**_

"_**It's not a big deal." He repeated with a sigh, pivoting his body slightly so he could look out the window again.**_

* * *

_**I watched for a moment as Oliver agreed to help her, slowly pulling himself out of his sullen mood. A part of me actually wanted to linger, just to see how Oliver treated Madeline, but I knew I no longer had any business staying. I slowly took a few steps away from Madeline and Oliver, debating on whether I should just quietly slip out of the owlery or awkwardly interrupt them just to say goodbye. However, the decision was taken out of my hands when I chanced a glimpse at the pair. My glance immediately fell on Oliver, who was currently occupied with explaining to Madeline some theory about transubstantial transfiguration. He spoke quickly and seemed to be drawn in by the conversation they were having, but as I reached the door Oliver's glance shifted in my direction. He didn't say goodbye, but he waved to me. I smiled and waved back. I turned on my heel to leave, but was forced to do a double take when I saw out of the corner of my eye that Oliver was still looking at me.**_

* * *

Chapter Nineteen: Kingsley Shacklebolt and the Sexy Wonder that is Remus Lupin

* * *

"I really think you could use the outing."

Lifting a forkful of scrambled eggs to my mouth, I shrugged. It was Saturday morning and the Great Hall was buzzing with the sound of students getting ready for the last Hogsmeade trip of the term. Denise was going of course to meet her dearly beloved, and was trying to coax me into going as well.

"Don't worry about me," I said, taking a bite of my eggs, "I'll be fine. I have tons of studying to do, so I won't be bored here." It's true. We had NEWTs coming up, after all.

Denise frowned. "Are you sure? Because I could just cancel my plans with Vince and hang out with you--"

"You don't have to do that," I cut her off, rolling my eyes at her. "I swear, I'll be fine on my own here."

"Oliver will probably be in Hogsmeade though" she added, lowering her voice slightly. I glanced at her while taking a sip of milk. She was smiling slightly.

I rolled my eyes again, now caught up to Denise's motives in insisting that I go to Hogsmeade. Boy-stalking. Sigh. I've been a horrible influence on her.

"I never should've told you about yesterday." I said, helping myself to more eggs. "You always get so...excited and super-supportive and...best friend-like."

Denise laughed. "You say it like it's a bad thing."

"It is!" I laughed. "I'm all happy and feeling wonderful about myself because yesterday Oliver glanced at me a little longer than he usually does, and you're just encouraging me in my euphoria when really, you should be pulling me out of the clouds and reminding me that it was just a look and it probably didn't mean anything and that I should go find some other guy to lust after because Oliver's taken anyway!"

Denise rolled her eyes this time. "So you want me to convince you that Oliver doesn't like you and that you don't have a shot with him?"

"Yes!"

"It must be very exhausting to be you."

I grinned. "It is at that. But it all makes sense! As a caring friend, you're supposed to bring me down gently so I don't fall on my face later when I realize that I was imagining all of this attention from Oliver."

"I will do no such thing," Denise replied, dabbing her napkin very daintily on against the sides of her mouth, "especially since I don't think you're imagining anything. You may be scared of being wrong about all of it, but I'm pretty confident that Oliver's taken an interest in you. I think you need to learn to deal with it."

I was about to threaten Denise that I would write Vince and tell him she was pregnant and he wasn't the father, but I shut my mouth when I noticed Oliver had walked by. I bowed my head slightly, pretending to be interested in the tablecloth as he passed Denise and me and headed to the opposite end of the Hufflepuff table. It was then that Denise nudged me hard in the ribs and I let out a grunt of pain.

"What the hell--"

"He _looked_ at you again!" Denise whispered excitedly. She was smirking.

I glanced up quickly to see where Oliver had gone. He was standing over Cedric Diggory and the Weasley twins (why were they _always_ at our table?). I heard something about "world cup" and "Ireland" and immediately turned my attention back to Denise. They were talking about quidditch.

"He wasn't looking at me." I said quickly. "He was probably looking for Fred and George."

Denise smiled as she stood up. "How would you know? You were staring determinedly at the tablecloth and blushing like a tomato when he passed us."

What? Blushing? Me? In front of Oliver? I put my hands to my cheeks and felt them. Ok, I was a little warm. But just a little. Didn't mean I was blushing in front of him...

"Do you think he noticed?" I asked quickly.

"The blushing?"

"Yes!"

Denise grinned. "You're so cute."

"Denise!"

She sniggered. I wanted to hit her. It was too early in the morning to deal with taunting and coyness in the matter of boys.

"Maybe he noticed, I don't know. Not that it's a bad thing if he did. I mean, if he really likes you, then he'd probably be pleased knowing that his presence makes you blush." Denise said sagely.

I glared at her. "Oh, go away. Go have sex with your boyfriend."

Denise grinned. "You love it. You love--"

Denise had stopped mid-sentence, glancing up at something passed me. I craned my neck to see what she was looking at, and my gaze immediately fell on Oliver. He was walking away with Madeline, who had also been eating her breakfast near Cedric this morning.

I turned back around to face Denise, who looked crestfallen. I smiled at her. "You don't need to look so crushed on my behalf, Denise. They've been dating for a while now...it's not so my-heart's-being-ripped-apart-and-being-trampled-on anymore."

She reached forward and rubbed my shoulder. "He's just passing time with her, I'm sure of it. I mean, he's already warming up to you..."

"Denise," I sighed, smiling, "it's ok. Really. You don't have to reassure me. I'm fine. Now go. You have a date with dear Vincent, remember?"

She frowned. "Are you _sure _you don't--"

"Go!"

"I'll bring you back a case of butterbeer!" Denise said quickly as she hurried away to meet her boyfriend.

* * *

I had to admit, lonely as I was, it was kind of nice to have the castle to myself. Well, somewhat. There were first and second years everywhere who weren't allowed in Hogsmeade, and a few random students from third year and up who felt like skipping out on today's trip, but for the most part the castle was pretty empty. I had the dormitory all to myself for the first time since--well, I honestly couldn't remember the last time I had the dormitory to myself. Girls were always coming in and out of it, there was almost never a moment's peace around here until night. I decided to take advantage of the few hours I'd have to myself in there and do some studying...

Only transfiguration was really boring.

I sighed, pulling myself off the floor where I had been working on an essay for McGonagall and heading towards the window between my and Denise's beds. We had a good view of the Whomping Willow, which was currently standing as still and serenely as a normal tree would on a sunny, windless morning. And since the tree had a tendency to act up and bash anyone or anything that came in its vicinity, the area was pretty quiet, thus resulting in a very boring view for this room. I turned around and surveyed our dormitory. Though it was currently a mess of schoolbooks and wrinkled uniforms, the room never looked so abandoned as it did now. Argh. I felt so lonely. Even slutty Madeline's company would be welcomed at this point. Oh, what the hell was wrong with me? Had I become _that _desperate? No, this wouldn't do. I had to do something. Something productive. Go to the library? Ah, no wait...library books!

I quickly got on all fours and began digging under my bed. Oh, Madam Pince would have an aneurysm if she knew I stored my library books under my bed, mingling with old lecture notes, a broken gobstones set, and an ugly handbag my aunt Ruth had sent me for Christmas. But they were library books and they were due in a few days. I would return them today. I would have something to do. Yeah, not feeling any better about the level of desperation I had reached...

I hurried out of the common room a few minutes later with a large stack of books about dark magical creatures that Lupin had recommended to me a few weeks ago. I had stupidly agreed with him that dark creatures were fascinating and an important subfield in the area of defense against the dark arts, and that some of them, while dangerous, were misunderstood and stigmitized by our society. Or something to that measure. I wasn't really paying attention to what I was agreeing with, I had been busy staring at his eyes. I noticed that they were light brown and very pretty. They had a nice shape to them...

I sighed happily as I recalled the happy day that I got to stare into Professor Lupin's eyes and listen to him talk passionately about something or the other. So dreamy. A little too dreamy though, because I just knocked someone over whilst in my reverie.

Books flying everywhere, I snapped back into reality to see who I had run into. Professor Lupin himself? Hah. _Right_, because life is _just_ that kind...

Nope, it was Harry Potter. I had sent his glasses flying, too. Oh, I needed to stop smiling, otherwise he'd think I was a bully doing it on purpose...

"I'm sorry!" I said quickly, bending over and reaching for his glasses, which had landed by my feet, "wasn't watching where I was going..."

He laughed a little and thanked me when I handed him his glasses. "It's alright."

I had bent over again to pick up my books, and was a bit surprised to see him kneeling down and joining me. I mean, he was Harry Potter and all. Sure, I was older and could probably squoosh him by just sitting on his tiny, scrawny self, but he was Harry Potter. He was almost as famous as Professor Dumbledore. He was mentioned in books, for crying out loud. He totally could've stepped over my books and walked away, and people still would have loved him.

"Oh, thanks," I said as he handed me _A History of Hinkypunks, _glancing curiously at the title. "You don't have to..."

"No, I don't mind." he replied, reaching past me for a book that had landed behind my foot. He glanced at the title, _The Secret Life of Boggarts_, and frowned a little. "That looks interesting."

I grinned as he handed it to me. "It's not. But Lupin recommended it so I thought to give it a shot..."

At the mention of Lupin's name, Harry's countenence brightened. "And he's the expert, isn't he?"

Oh, this brief interaction totally made my day. Bonding over Professor Lupin with Harry Potter. I loved it. I grinned and asked him if he was a third year, to which he replied in the affirmative.

"Why?" he asked.

"You guys have been studying dark creatures then, right?"

"Yeah," he replied. "It's pretty interesting. I think it's the best class this term, actually."

I knew I needed to wipe that stupid grin off my face so as to not frighten young Mr. Potter away. But I couldn't help it. I loved any excuse to talk about the sexy wonder that was Professor Remus Lupin.

"You're so lucky you've got Lupin teaching you guys about that stuff," I replied, thinking back to my third year, "I had this bloke named Cantwell who was afraid of most of the creatures he taught us about. We didn't have a single practical lesson all year. It was pathetic."

Harry laughed, glancing down at his watch. "Yeah, Lupin's great. I actually need to go see him right now."

"Oh! Don't let me keep you then." I said quickly, taking a step back so he could pass through and go to Lupin's office. What a cutie pie, off to see Lupin! The wonderful Lupin of...oh, hold on. Lupin's not a fictional wizard, and the path to his office doesn't include a yellow brick road...

Harry smiled. "Bye Suzie," he said as he walked past me.

Huh. He knew my name? I felt slightly squirmish in the happy fangirl sort of way when a famous celebrity acknowledges you. Though I felt a bit pathetic since he was five years younger than me and all. Oh well. Twenty years from now it won't matter that I was five years older than the famous Harry Potter who talked to me in the halls back when we were in school together...

Oh, no. Not again Suzie. I swear, this was even grosser than me dating Roger Davies.

"Good luck against Slytherin!" I found myself calling after him. Suzie! He's thirteen! You aren't! Thou shalt not hit on children!!

He was already several feet away from me, but he turned around and smiled as he said thanks. It was a bit of a nervous smile, though I had my suspicions as to why. The dementors were still guarding Hogwarts and they had taken a liking to him. Poor kid. He was such an underdog. And yet such a hero. I think that's why he's just so loveable and adorable. He's got that strong/weak dichotomy thing, and there's nothing a girl loves more than a guy with good dichotomy thing going on. Er...I mean _people_. There's nothing _people_ love more than--er--other people with a dichotomy...Oh, I don't even know why I bother...

* * *

I mentally chastised myself all the way to the library for being a pedophilic pervert, contemplating on whether or not it constituted as inappropriate to think of young wizards like Harry. I mean, it wasn't as if I was thinking of him sexually...he was just adorable. Like scruff-up-his-hair-and-give-him-a-lolipop adorable. But then I considered Lupin to be adorable in that respect as well and he was definitely shagging material. Huh. Shagging material. That sounds so...archaic. I can't imagine Lupin wanting to shag anyone who uses archaic phrases like 'shagging material.' I should really stop using it then. Because that's what's keeping me from sleeping with him, right?

As I pushed through the double doors of the library, I immediately spotted Madam Pince at her desk, waving a tatty old book around and telling off Katie Bell.

"...no respect for literature!!" Madam Pince screeched. I glanced at Katie and grinned when I saw that she was biting down hard on her lower lip. Ah, the lower lip. A difficult one to keep stiff at moments like these...

"I swear," Katie said in an exasperated tone, "the cover was already torn when you checked it out to me! Last week! Remember? You told me off then too because you thought I had been careless about pulling the book from the shelf!"

"Don't talk back to me you sloppy little whippersnapper!"

Whippersnapper? Nice. Very nice. Ten points to Madam Pince for the use of whippersnapper.

Taking a seat at the nearest desk, I flipped open one of my library books and pretended to peruse it. The drop-off area was at Madam Pince's desk, and I didn't want to draw any attention to myself. There was a coffee or tea stain on one of my books (that I might have caused) and I wasn't in the mood for a lecture or a beating (behind the head with a library book. Oh, she's done it. Trust me.) so I sat there waiting for her to finish with Katie and wander away from her desk to go tell off some other poor unsuspecting student.

When she finally did leave her desk, Katie had turned on her heel and had flipped her middle and index fingers up in Madam Pince's direction, rolling her eyes and scowling. As I sniggered and stood up, collecting my books, our glances met and we both grinned.

"The deepest circle in hell is reserved for people like her." I said, still grinning as I tried balancing books against my hip.

Katie's grin broadened. "Glad to know it. Are you returning books?" she asked, eyeing my stack.

I nodded, using my free arm to pull the books at the top of my stack closer to me. They had started to wobble. "Yeah. And I better do it quickly before she gets back to her desk and decides to inspect my books. If she sees the state of these, I'll be hanging in the dungeon by my thumbs..."

"Do you need some help carrying them?" she asked. But before I could tell her it was alright, she had taken several books from my stack and began heading back to Madam Pince's desk.

"Oh, thanks!" I said quickly, following her.

There was a slot in Madam Pince's desk with the words RETURN etched above it. I watched as Katie dropped my books one by one through the slot. She craned her neck to look at me. "Did you have a lot of work this weekend too?"

"Oh--no. Not really." I replied. It then occured to me that she was probably asking because I wasn't in Hogsmeade. "I just didn't feel like going to Hogsmeade today. Everyone's got plans of their own. I would've been wandering around by myself all day and I'm just not in the mood for that."

"Ah." she said, backing away so I could put my books through the return slot.

"What about you?"

Katie shrugged. "Well, I've got OWLs coming up. A lot of people in my year stayed back to get some extra studying done. That's what I've been doing since breakfast, actually."

I dropped the last of my books in the return slot and smiled. "Fun." I said simply. Fun? That's all I could say? I mean, alright, it was an appropriately sarcastic "fun" which she undoubtedly picked up on...but still. I hated being monosyllabic. It always made feel like a moron.

"Yeah." she replied.

Ah, well. There's some comfort in knowing I'm not the only one prone to it.

I opened my mouth to tell her I had to run, but stopped just as I had begun to form the word "Well"--Madam Pince was heading back to her desk and she was looking particularly vulture-like.

"She's coming." I said in what was probably an overly-urgent sounding whisper. "Let's get the hell out of here."

Katie glanced quickly over my shoulder, eyes widening slightly. "Bugger."

Bugger. Good enough for me. I turned on my heel and hurried towards the exit. I glanced sideways as I reached the door and saw that Katie had followed suite and was close behind me. This was kind of exciting! A dangerous attempt to escape from the clutches of Madam Pince!

"Stop right there! Miss Bell! Miss Hennessey!"

Oh bugger indeed.

I had just grabbed a hold of the doorknob--so close to freedom--but I let go of it as I turnd to face Madam Pince, who had just dropped off some paperwork at her desk and was crossing the room to meet Katie and me. She was narrowing her eyes at me.

"Is everything alright...ma'am?" I asked, smiling sweetly at Madam Pince as she stopped in front of us. She glared at me. I know I shouldn't be taking pleasure in pissing her off, but...

"What were you doing at my desk?" she snapped, and wheeling around to face Katie she added, "and what were _you_ doing there? I thought I had already finished with you! Why were you lingering? Thought you might try tampering with my inventory lists, missy?"

I rolled my eyes. "I was returning my books. And I had a lot of them, so Katie helped me carry them to the drop-off slot."

Madam Pince looked at me, then at Katie, and then shifted her glance back to me. "You were returning books?"

Oh honestly. Why does she have to repeat everything people say? She wasn't hard of hearing, nor was she a non-native speaker of English...

"Yes. Returning books. Your books." I said with a sigh. "We put all of them through the drop-off slot, and we were really careful--"

"Don't patronize me you insolent, teenage tart!" she snapped, taking a step closer to me. I backed away, or rather, backed into the door and hit my tailbone very hard against the doorknob. Teenage tart? She thought _I_ was a tart? My mind immediately went to Madeline, and I suddenly felt annoyed that Madam Pince would probably never call _her_ a tart. But then again, it was Madeline. She's probably never even set foot in the library. Madam Pince wouldn't even recognize her.

Feeling smug about this observation, I merely smiled and said "Ok!" when Pince yelled at Katie and me and told us to get out of her library if the only thing we came in to do was drop off books. I don't think she took kindly to my smug grin though, because as we swung the door open and hurried out of the library, I heard her shout, "Ten points from Hufflepuff should knock that smirk off your face!"

Ah, sadly, it didn't. Katie and I simply looked at each other and laughed as the library door slammed shut behind us.

"She looked as though lava was going to explode out of her ears," Katie said with a laugh as we walked down the corridor together. "And you were cool as a cucumber."

I grinned. "I think that kind of attitude further provokes the dragon in her though."

"Yeah, I could tell." Katie replied.

"I have to admit though, it's kind of fun provoking her. Which is mean I know, because she's absolutely mental and it's not nice to provoke mental people..."

Katie laughed again. "Nah. I thought it was great."

"Thanks." I said, nodding and smiling proudly.

"So, where are you heading?" she asked as we turned a corner.

I frowned. "I didn't really have any plans today. I suppose I'll just head back to my common room and just hang. You?"

Katie nodded. "Same, I guess. I mean, I suppose I should go back to studying, but I've been doing that all day every day for the past few weeks...I'm a bit tired of it."

"Understandably," I said, smiling reminscently, remembering my days as a fifth year, cramming for OWLs. "it won't hurt to take a break. Probably better if you did, you don't want to overwork yourself only to crash when OWLs come up. Best to just pace yourself."

"Yeah."

"Go to Hogsmeade," I said, glancing out a window we were passing that offered a view of the path that students took to get to Hogsmeade. "it's really nice outside. Maybe hook up with some friends, have some drinks."

I glanced back at Katie, only to find that she was looking at me thoughtfully. Ok, was she offended that I told her to take a break? Great. This was just like Percy Weasley all over again. I told him a few days to get a grip because he was getting all fussy and Percy-like over the whole end-of-the-year, it's-almost-graduation-and-I've-got-so-much-to-do rush. Ok, I might've been a bit ruder to him than I was to Katie (the phrases "need to get laid" and "pull your wand out of your ass" were used), but he gave me the same pensive, I'm-starting-to-reevaluate-your-worth-as-a-human look Katie was currently giving me. Dumb Gryffindors. They could be so uptight sometimes.

"Do you want to come with me?" she asked.

Huh?

"Who, me?" I asked, jabbing a thumb at myself.

She smiled a little. "I mean, if you're not busy.We can get some drinks, keep bashing Madam Pince...or really anyone who's a mutual annoyance to us, if you want..."

I grinned despite feeling a bit stupid about being taken aback by her request. It wasn't like she was asking me out on a date or anything (though the fact that I can actually see myself dating someone like Katie makes me wonder if my obsession with Oliver has taken on dangerous heights by my fascination with anything or anyone even remotely connected to him, _or_ if I'm just a lesbian and haven't been aware of it until now).

I agreed, and so we headed to Hogsmeade together to have a few butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks. We talked the entire walk to the village, which admittedly surprised me. I mean, she was young. Fifth year. Roger Davies was a fifth year. The Weasley twins were fifth years. They all felt significantly younger to me (let's not focus on the fact that I dated one of these significantly younger boys once), and so I figured Katie would seem significantly younger to me as well. But she didn't. She was cool, and much more mature than Roger, Fred, and George...though I suppose I've got a really low bar if I'm using them as a standard for maturity.

And I loved that she could talk about quidditch but not be a freak of nature about it. She was an awesome chaser, from what I'd heard and seen for myself at matches, and probably loved quidditch as much as the next person, but she didn't drone on and on about it like most quidditch players I knew. She knew there was more to life that banging balls around and trying to score. I told her that, and she sniggered, muttering "Dirty."

Another reason I think Katie and I are destined to become friends today.

It seems Miss Bell and I share a common interest in perversity and general lewd behavior.

"Oh, if I had a sickle for every time Oliver's told me off for making inappropriate quidditch jokes..." Katie laughed as she held open the door to the Three Broomsticks for me.

At the mention of Oliver's name, I felt my heart rate pick up. Even faster than it used to when I first started liking him. These past few weeks around him, this whole change in the atmosphere, his increased tolerance for me...it gave me hope and the hope made my heart go nuts. And it wasn't pleasant. Seriously, cardiac arrest's just around the corner for me.

"Yeah," I said, trying to sound as casual as possible and not at all like I suddenly felt on guard because I now knew I wasn't the only pervert in Oliver's life. I felt like I had competition now. "he doesn't seem like the kind of person who could appreciate a perverted crack to lighten the mood, not when his precious quidditch is on his mind"

Katie grinned. "Not at all. He doesn't tolerate jokes of any kind when it comes to quidditch. He's a bit of a freak."

I grinned. "That he is."

"One hell of a captain though." Katie continued as I led her through the crowded bar to an emty table I had spotted in a far corner of the room. "He's the grease that keeps our team running smoothly."

I nodded and smiled as we took our seats at a tiny table for two. After ordering our drinks, Katie continued to talk about Oliver and how much he was esteemed by the Gryffindor quidditch team, albeit he was also regarded as a lunatic who forced them to wake up at the crack of dawn for practice on many mornings. I have to admit, as much as I loved listening to people talk about Oliver in any manner, I felt a little weird hearing all of this from Katie. Another woman. A very dateable woman at that. Not for me, of course (I'm pretty sure I'm not a lesbian. An old man with hair like Professor Lupin's just walked by and I found myself glancing at his butt and evaluating its perkiness in comparison to Lupin's) but for Oliver. He could date Katie, couldn't he? I mean...she was quite pretty--definitely had better hair than me. She shared that love for quidditch with him. And the one great attribute I had--perviness--she had as well. They could easily date. The only question now was whether or not they were attracted to each other.

Katie certainly liked him enough to talk about him in a positive manner for five minutes straight. But it was all quidditch. Hmm. Maybe she just admired him in a big brotherly manner. I'd need some time to feel this one out...

"I'm sorry," Katie apologized when our butterbeers arrived, "I'm talking a lot about quidditch. I don't mean to bore you."

I smiled as a dropped my straw into my butterbeer bottle. "It's alright. I like quidditch. I go to the games."

Katie took a sip of her drink. "So...any tips on OWLs? I think they might just be the death of me."

I thought back to my own OWLs and how I had prepared for them without going insane. Hmm. I do remember my first taste of muggle liquor to have occurred somewhere around that time. A Slytherin in our year, Haley Watson, had apparently smuggled in a bunch with her when she came back from Christmas holiday. She was a decent Slytherin, and had been so kind as to share her booty with others a few nights befor the OWLs. Probably not a good story to share with Katie though...

"Well, just pace yourself." I said, "And relax. I mean, they're just a bunch of tests. I know they're important, but in the worst case that you do horribly, your life isn't over or anything. You'll do fine though, I'm sure." I added quickly when I saw traces of worry form on Katie's face. "OWLs aren't impossible. They're written so the majority of students pass them at the very least."

Katie nodded "Yeah, I guess. I just start worrying though the moment I come across something in my old notes that I've forgotten about and don't understand anymore. Did that happen a lot to you too when you were taking your OWLs? What about now? I mean, you're taking NEWTs Aren't you? You seem so relaxed about them. I mean, you haven't even mentioned them! Do you feel ready for them?"

I forced a smile. All this talk about academics only reminded me of my sad transition out of school...in that I had no job to transition to as of now. My dad had looked into the ministry and talked to some of his colleagues there to see if there were any openings I could be considered for. Apparently the only thing available was some position in the Department of Mysteries, which my parents expressively forbade me to join. "Inappropriate for you", Dad had written in his letter to me. "Really creepy," Mum had written in a separate letter to me where she spent most of it complaining about Dad and how "he's "being stubborn and close-minded and won't even consider having another baby because he thinks he's out of sperm." Sigh. I swear...

"Well," I started, shifting a little in my seat, "I did worry quite a bit when I was studying for my OWLs, and I had plenty of those moments where I'd look at my old notes and blank out. I'm actually having a lot of those now too with NEWT preparations. It helps to talk to your professors though. I swear, I've been spending more time in professors' offices these past couple weeks than I have in their actual classes. McGonagall actually told me the other day that I had reached my visiting quota with her. She was joking though...er, I think." I added thoughtfully, now wondering if she had actually been serious about keeping me out of her office. I was so screwed in Transfiguration if that was the case...

Katie grinned. "I'm sure she was kidding. It's hard to detect her sense of humor sometimes, but she's definitely got one."

"True enough."

"I should probably go see my professors more often though. That's a good idea," Katie continued. "I'm having a lot of trouble with astronomy and Professor Sinastra did say she'd keep longer office hours for those of us who wanted to come in for help."

I made a face. "I hate astronomy. I dropped it after OWLs."

"I think I might do the same." Katie said with a sigh. "I look at the night sky and everything looks the same to me, even with the help of those stupid charts. You know what other subject I hate? Defense Against the Dark Arts..."

I cocked an eyebrow at her. "Really?"

She shook her head dismally. "I've always hated it. I mean, I like it because it's interesting, but I'm just not any good at it. It's a very practical subject though, so I need to make sure I get at least an E in it to continue. And Lupin's been great about helping me prepare for the OWLs."

I was about to nod in agreement, but stopped short when I saw (and heard) Katie letting out a tiny sigh. Jaw dropping oh-so-far from my mouth...

Katie glanced up at me and smiling sheepishly, she leaned in closer to me and said quietly, "I'm sorry--you'll probably think I'm insane when I say this, but I think Lupin's kind of cute."

Oh, how I wanted to squeal with delight. But doing so would probably scare Katie away. So I merely grinned.

"He's sexy." I stated in a very confident, somewhat smug voice. I don't know what I had to be smug about. It's not like Lupin's my boyfriend or anything...

At this, Katie snickered. "I have to say I love that I finally have someone agreeing with me."

"I know!" I said excitedly, unable to bear the calmness anymore. I had a fellow Lupin-lover, and damnit, I was going to revel!

"It's kind of a relief to hear that, and you know, not be told that I'm sick or weird." Katie said as she took a sip of her butterbeer.

"Tell me about it..."

"I mean, I was telling Oliver at practice the other day that I thought Lupin was attractive, and he's been taking the mickey out of me since. He keeps calling me Mrs. Lupin."

Mrs. Lupin? That's _my_ title!! I mean, ok, I know neither of us could actually be Mrs. Lupin since Monsieur Lupin seems determined to be a prudish, non-pedophilic man of honor and whatnot, but still! Ok, I suddenly miss being the only lunatic in love with Lupin. Now I've got competition.

I observed Katie as we continued to gush over the sexy wonder that was Remus Lupin. She was very cute, actually. Athletic too. Probably a good student. What's not to like about her? Man, I bet Lupin likes her better than me. I bet Oliver likes her better than me too. This is ridiculously unfair. I hate my life.

Trying to shake away the feelings of insecurity and this newfound contempt for Oliver and his calling Katie Mrs. Lupin, I glanced around in search of a waitress to bring me a refill. And then, out of the blue, I saw it. I saw _him_.

A tall, bald black wizard had just taken a seat at the bar with someone who I assumed was a friend or a work colleague. He wore a single hoop earring in his left ear, which made him look all the more genie-like and sexy. It was him. The sexy auror. Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"...and I mean, he's just so sweet, you know?"

I returned my glance to Katie and smiled. "Yes, he is. The sweetest. We'd get cavities if we ate him." I added, dearly hoping we were still talking about Lupin.

She laughed, but glanced over her shoulder to see what I had been looking at. She turned around to face me again. "Do you know those guys? The ones at the bar?"

I grinned. "The black guy...yes, a little. Well, no. I mean, I only know of him. He works with my dad. Sort of. I mean, My dad's not an auror, but he works in the ministry with that guy--"

"He's an auror?" Katie cut in, eyes widening slightly. "That's so cool!"

I nodded. "I know! And he has the sexiest voice! Seriously, I bumped into him once when I was looking for my dad while he was at work, and I almost swooned when he apologized to me." I said, grinning fondly as I relived the memory.

"What's his name?"

"Kingsley Shacklebolt." I replied, lowering my voice so Mr. Shacklebolt himself wouldn't hear us.

"That's such a...strong-sounding name!" Katie whispered excitedly.

"I know!"

"And he's gorgeous!"

"I know!"

There were a few moments of silence where Katie and I just sat there with our heads bowed slightly, glancing in Shacklebolt's direction. Well, ogling's probably a better word. Well, we couldn't help it! The man was a work of art! He had strong, chiseled features--and I'm not just talking about his face. He was wearing a fitted, ribbed shirt that hugged his upper body in the most flattering way. He was obviously muscular, but not in the gross body-builder way. Oh, and the pants he was sporting--God, I love muggles and their butt-defining pants! Sure, he was sitting down right now, but just by the shape it took in the seated position, you could tell he had a nice rear. I leaned forward a little and informed Katie of my observations.

She giggled. "I didn't even notice that, but you make an interesting point. Geez, Suzie. You make me feel like such an amateur."

I grinned. "Well, I am a few years older than you. I have a little more experience with perving on unsuspecting, attractive men."

Katie rolled her eyes. "Alright, answer me this, Miss Pervert Extraordinaire. What do you think he wears? Boxers or briefs?"

I glanced back at Kingsley and thought. "Well," I started slowly, "he's an auror...so he's got an active life and is probably on the move a lot...I bet he wears briefs. Keeps his...er...goods in place." I said, turning back to Katie and grinning, quite proud of my well-reasoned assessment.

"You have much knowledge. I'm impressed." Katie said, laughing.

We glanced Shacklebolt's way once more--he was resting his elbows on the bar counter, laughing at something his friend had just told him. Oh, he had a beautiful laugh. A deep, heavy, rich laugh that you could get lost in. And lost we were indeed. So lost in fact that we didn't notice his friend looking at us.

Actually it wasn't until his friend hit Shacklebolt on the arm and nudged his head in our direction, smiling and saying something to him in his ear. Shacklebolt slowly shifted his eyes towards us. And barely giving us a second's glass, he smiled shyly and turned back to his friend, head bowed slightly in embarrassment.

It seemed that Katie and I had caught on at the same time, and immeditely turned back to face each other.

"Woops. Caught in the act." Katie said, looking determinedly at her drink, though still smiling.

I couldn't help but grin like an idiot. We were making fools out of ourselves in front of a very attractive auror and his less-attractive-but-still-probably-an-important-person friend and I didn't seem to care very much. It was quite fun. Denise and I never really did this, but then again we didn't really share the same taste in men. Plus Denise was too proper to stare shamelessly at men. She lowered her gaze and blushed like a real lady does when an attractive man was in the vicinity. Not that I'm criticizing her or anything. I mean, hey, blushing shyly and being all modest got her a wonderful boyfriend, right?

Taking a chance and stealing one last glance at Shacklebolt, I saw that he and his friend were getting up to leave. Great. We scared them away. Or at least gave them a little entertainment before sending them off feeling a bit better about themselves. Or at least Kingsley would be feeling a bit better about himself. I mean, being stared at by a couple of girls who were quite young in comparison to him _had_ to be flattering and thus an ego booster, right?

"Shucks, they're leaving." Katie said glumly as Kingsley and his friend disappeared in the crowd and two new people took their seats at the bar. "And I was just thinking of buying them drinks..."

I laughed. "You were not."

Katie stuck her tongue out at me and laughed. "Well, we could've gotten a waitress to send them drinks, but make it an anonymous sort of gift from us."

I rolled my eyes but continued to laugh. "I'm sure they'd know we were behind it."

"Still..."

"And would you really want to send drinks to both of them? I mean, Kingsley's friend wasn't very good-looking..."

"I know, but I'd feel bad, sending Kingsley a drink but not his friend. It's like we might as well and go up there and tell him he's ugly." Katie said, frowning slightly.

"Aw, he wasn't _ugly_, per say." I reasoned, my mind going back to the scrawny man who had been sitting with Kingsley. "He just paled beside the beauty of his friend."

Katie rolled her eyes. "Fine. You take him. I'll take Kingsley."

"Take him where? He's already left with his ugly friend." I said with a grin.

Katie made a tutting sound. "You said he wasn't ugly!"

I shrugged and took another sip of my butterbeer, glancing around the room. It was three in the afternoon and the Three Broomsticks was packed with students, Hogwarts faculty (McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout were a few tables away), and other random villagers. I squirmed a little in my seat when I noticed Roger Davies at the other end of the bar with his arm around a tiny little brunette who I recognized to be a fourth year in Ravenclaw. Geez. Twenty galleons that boy's going to contract an STD before he graduates from Hogwarts...

I sat there for a few moments wondering if Madam Pomfrey ever had to deal with students contracting STDs, teenage pregnancies, or other equally uncomfortable issues of a sexual nature when I shifted my glance from Roger to the boy who was sitting a few stools away from him. It was Oliver, and he was looking at me.

I immediately turned back to Katie and smiled automatically. But too late. She looked questioningly at me for a moment, and then shifted her gaze to the direction I was looking.

"Oliver!"

Damn.

How did she know I was looking at him though? It was really crowded in here! Of all the people in that corner of the bar, how could she have possibly known I was looking at him? How? How--

"Hey Katie!"

Hey Katie? I craned my neck back and immediately saw Oliver walking towards us. Ohhhhh. Oliver! She saw him coming. She didn't see me staring and getting all flustered. Excellent.

Oliver had reached our table. He glanced around for a moment, and then promptly took a seat with Katie in her chair.

"What the hell!" she exclaimed, scooting over to give him room.

"There aren't any extra chairs anywhere." Oliver replied irritably. "Get a grip."

"Get a grip yourself, Ollie." she snapped, elbowing him hard in the side, causing him to wince. "No one invited you to our table."

He glared at her. "You call me that one more time and Madam Pomfrey will have to surgically remove the quaffle from your mouth."

She grinned. "That's quite rude. Do you threaten your mum like that when _she_ calls you Ollie?"

I felt my mouth twist into a giant smile. "Your _mum_ calls you Ollie?"

Oliver rolled his eyes in response.

"That's so sweet!" I giggled.

He turned to Katie and gave her another dirty look. "I hate you."

"Then go share a seat with Suzie." She responded with a grin.

Oh, cheeks going pink.

Even pinker when I saw Oliver freeze. But it was only for a milisecond. Shorter than that, actually. So short in fact, that Katie didn't seem to notice because she simply smiled and took another sip of her butterbeer.

Oliver, being Oliver, was quick to recover. He shrugged. "Nah, I wouldn't dare try to take over her seat. She's probably slap me. Or chuck something at my head."

My first response was just to cock an eyebrow at him. Why would I hit him? Or chuck...something at his head..._ooooh_. Yeah. Because I've done that before! Heh. I forgot about that little incident in Diagon Alley over Christmas holidays. Oh, I think I still have that ball I chucked at him! The tennis ball, I think that's what he called it. Some muggle thing. Gosh. I'm so violent.

Oliver was smiling slightly at me as he leaned back in his shared seat with Katie. He was _smiling_. Oh, that dreamy smile. And he was smiling at_ me_. Me! While he was talking about my violent tendencies! Wait--was he...teasing me? Like, in a flirtatious way? He was making fun of me, but he was smiling in a very endearing manner. That was flirting, wasn't it? I mean, I'm not 100 percent sure because...well, it never happens to me and whatnot...but Fred and George do it all the time to Denise, and while Fred does it to annoy her, I always had the sneaking suspicion George did it because he had an eency weency crush on Denise. Because of the smile. The same smile Oliver was shining at me! Oh, happy day!

"Yeah," Katie said as she stirred her drink with her straw, "I should probably do the same...but something tells me you weren't joking about the quaffle-shoving threat."

Oliver had still been looking at me, and I _think_ I was still looking at Oliver (is it stupid to say I'm not totally sure because I was very excited and everything was just moving too quickly for me to tell?), but at Katie's words, our stares were broken as we turned to look at her. She was rapidly whirling her straw around her bottle, trying to break some chunks of ice in her drink. She hadn't noticed a thing between Oliver and me--and as cool as Katie Bell seems, I have to admit: Thank God.

"Of course I was." Oliver replied, now standing up. He glanced once more at me and then turned back to Katie. "Listen, I actually just came by because I came across some really great quaffle-stealing moves--"

"Forget it!" Katie interjected with a sigh. "Damnit, Ollie, we're going to crush Slytherin! We're--"

"_And_," Oliver cut in louder, pulling Katie up roughly by the arm, "Angelina, Alicia, Fred, and George are sitting at a table down there"--he jabbed his thumb in the direction from which he had originally come--"and so we might as well have an impromptu team meeting. Now move!"

Katie glared at Oliver as she grabbed her half-empty butterbeer bottle. "But what about Harry? He's at Hogwarts!"

Oliver grabbed a hold of her arm, as if afraid she would tear a nearby window and run away at any moment. "We don't need to worry about him. The only thing he needs to work on is his dementor issue, and he told me Professor Lupin's helping him with that."

Katie rolled her eyes. "I guess this is goodbye, Suzie."

I grinned. "I suppose so. Have fun!"

She glanced over her shoulder and let out a sigh. "I don't appreciate your sarcasm."

"Move, Bell!" Oliver ordered, pulling her away into the crowd. He too however glanced over his shoulder and added, "Later Suzie!"

Mmm. I got a "Later Suzie!" from Oliver. _Ollie._ Oh, that's too cute. I'm going to call him that from now on.


	20. Mr Heinrich Wood

_A/N: I hate to be one of those annoying narrators, but I just wanted to keep everyone up to pace. This chapter picks up right where we left off in the last one. Suzie's still in Hogsmeade. She loves Ollie. Yada yada yada. Cool? )_

_What else? Oh yeah. The ending. I liked it when I first thought of it, but now I'm not so sure. I had this image of reviewers going "Er...I don't get the ending. Why..." Meh. Oh well. I stuck to it anyway. Going with the gut and all of that._

* * *

Chapter 20: Mr. Heinrich Wood

I swore under my breath as I pushed open the door of the Three Broomsticks. Damn wind. It was April already! Why was it still cold? It was 3:30 in the afternoon and the first Saturday of April, and it was cold! I hugged myself as I stepped out of the Three Broomsticks and into the bustling sidewalk. I had been having drinks with Katie Bell earlier, but was forced to leave when Oliver arrived to kidnap Katie for an impromptu quidditch team meeting. But not before taking a few good looks at me. Oh yeah, _me_.

Gosh, I love saying that!

Ok, so he wasn't looking at me like some first prize cow at a country fair...but he _looked _at me! The same way he's been looking at me these past couple of weeks! It's no longer the "Ugh. You're that perverted Hufflepuff girl who's got the IQ of an eraser" look that he used to give me (and the one Percy Weasley still gives me. And Snape. And sometimes McGonagall.) Now it's more of a "Huh. You're a tolerable human being to be with. Possibly some day to procreate with."

Ok, I threw in that procreating part for fun. But still, he found me tolerable, and possibly pleasant. I mean, he was smiling at me! Oliver Wood rarely smiles. That's got to mean something.

I began to walk faster, excited about my recent developments with Oliver, excited to tell Denise about my day. I was going to go back to Hogwarts, be happy and positive, use that positive energy to get some more homework done while I waited for Denise, and then proceed to explode all over Denise the moment we saw each other at dinner. And yes, I am totally aware of the fact that it was just a smile and a couple of prolonged looks...not a marriage proposal. But still. You have to understand that my life is fairly pathetic and I don't really have much to live for right now. So the slightest joys such as having the sexiest guy at Hogwarts (after Lupin, of course) giving me more attention than he usually does is cause for much rejoice. It's just how it is.

So excited was I that I walked passed Cauldron-o-Books, saw Oliver Wood's dad standing the shop window, and continued walking without giving him a second glance. A few seconds had gone by; I had already passed the store. Then I came to my senses and backed up.

Woah, woah, woah. Oliver's dad was in Hogsmeade?

I casually moved closer to the shop window, pretending to be interested in the display of _The Daily Prophet's Best Sellers_. He was talking to Jeremiah, the store owner. Hmm. There on business then?

Rooted to my spot, I stood there, debating on how to proceed. Go in or continue on my way? Go in, of course! But how? Well, aside from the obvious "Move left foot, then right foot." I was pretty much skint after drinks with Katie so I couldn't very well buy any books. Oh, browse! I could just go in to browse! Although...shouldn't I just mind my own business? I doubt Mr. Wood was up to anything spy-worthy. I mean, he was talking to sweet old Jeremiah, the eighty-something year old owner of the bookstore. It was probably some business thing, since Mr. Wood was a publisher.

But he's _Oliver_ Wood's dad!!

I slowly inched my way to the entrance, wincing a little when the bells overhead jingled when I opened the door. I kind of wanted to slip in unnoticed...

Jeremiah was at the checkout counter talking to Mr. Wood, and he glanced up briefly to smile at me and then turned back to his conversation. Alright. Let's get browsing.

I walked straight into the first aisle in my way: the self-help section. Nice. It was like a sign or something. ("Stalking your crush's dad? Yes, this section is for you, Suzie Hennessey!") I scanned the titles on the shelf directly in front of me. _For Merlin's Sake, He's Just Not That Into You!_ Hah. I've considered buying that one multiple times. _The Art of Happiness: A Guide for Witches of All Ages. A Witch in Your Own Right. What do Wizards Want? What do Witches Want? _Oh, get me out of this section...

I headed to the end of the aisle and turned over to the next one. Fiction. Excellent. Less likely to call out to me. And as an added bonus, it was closer to the register.

"I assure you, your store will remain pretty much the same." came Mr. Wood's voice, which came out slightly muffled over the sound of papers being shuffled on Jeremiah's counter.

Jeremiah coughed. "I want to believe you, Heinrich. And I guess I have to if I'm signing these contracts, but I've still got my scruples since we're even bothering with contracts in the first place."

"It keeps everything legal. Binding, you know."

I frowned as I pretended to be interested in _The Confessions of a Bohemian Banshee_. Mr. Wood had said that in a decidedly condescending tone. Condescending to Jeremiah? I mean, I know this is the father of a very sexy, shagable young man who is also affectionately known as Ollie...but still! Condescending to Jeremiah! That was just mean!

"I know, I know." Jeremiah muttered. I heard the sound of a page being turned at the counter, followed by the brusque scratching sound of a quill.

"So there's really no need to worry, Jeremiah. Obscurus Books has been taking on local stores as part of our chain for years, and we have an excellent track record of keeping our managers happy with the way we run things."

"Owners." Jeremiah responded gruffly. "I don't just manage. I own this place. Owned it for fifty years, matter of fact."

Mr. Wood laughed lightly. Well, as lightly as a big and burly man like himself could laugh anyway. "Just a formality of a title. As a part of our chain, you'll be referred to as the manager for the purposes of our paperwork."

I replaced _The Confessions of a Bohemian Banshee_ in the shelf, wondering when either Jeremiah or Mr. Wood would turn around and yell at me to leave because they were having a somewhat confidential albeit informal business meeting. I was currently the only customer in the store, and it made me feel a little nervous. Perhaps it was time to go...

"We'll be in touch then." I heard Mr. Wood say. Excellent. He was going to leave. I hurried down the fiction aisle, determined to get out of the shop so as to avoid an awkward exchange with what I was sure was a grumpy and irritable Jeremiah. I mean, after a meeting like that, I was sure he wasn't going to ask me if I needed help with anything or smile and ask me what my name was again and if I was still studying at Hogwarts. He probably wanted some time to himself.

I reached the end of the aisle and turned the corner of it, ready to sprint to the door, when the inevitable happened to me: I crashed into someone. And today's someone happened to be Mr. Wood. Oh God. He was going to pull out his wand and perform an unforgiveable on me, wasn't he? I want my mummy. Or my daddy so he can duel Mr. Wood and kick his ass.

Papers flew everywhere. His briefcase landed with a hard thud on the floor. Oh. I was so afraid.

"Oh! Sorry!" I said quickly, jumping back a little. "I'm so sorry." I muttered again as I got on all fours to clean up the mess I had made. To my surprise, he joined me on the floor.

"It's alright." he replied in a tone that was more polite than friendly. Well, at least it was polite...

He reached for his briefcase and propped it open, dropping his mess of papers into it. I followed suite. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Wood." I repeated. "I wasn't watching where I was going, and..."

I froze. Did I just address him as Mr. Wood?? Oh. Hell. How was I going to explain this? How, Suzie, how? _I'm sorry, I know who you are because I'm obsessed with your son! _Hmm, or how about _Excuse me, but I need to go rush some oxygen to my brain cells_! And then proceed to bolt out of the store...

He glanced up from his briefcase, cocking an eyebrow at me. Holy crap. He does it just like Oliver. But not as sexy, because I mean, hello! He's Oliver's dad and considering him sexy is just wrong, even in my extremely thin book of morals and decency.

"Er...sorry, do I know you?" he asked, shutting his briefcase with a loud snap.

"Well...no." I said with a nervous laugh. Great. I sounded like a creepy stalker. "You don't. I mean, I don't think you'd know me. But I just recognize you as Oliver's dad. You're his dad, right? I mean, every year at the train station...that's where I recognize you from." I stammered on, desperate to make my recognizing him to appear as something totally normal and...not weird. He was looking at me expectantly. I suppose that means it's not working. He thinks I need to be committed to St. Mungo's, I'm sure...

"Are you a friend of Oliver's?"

"Sorry?"

"Are--you--a--friend--of--Oliver's?" he asked more slowly. Great. He thought I had some sort of auditory or mental impairment.

Well, I was probably giving him more reason to think that, seeing as how I took a few seconds to reply. I wasn't quite sure what to say to that! I mean, Oliver and I weren't exactly friends, but we weren't completely indifferent strangers either. Deciding that yes was probably the best answer to give, I answered him in the affirmative as we both headed towards the door.

Awkward silence. He held the door open for me as we left. I said "Thank you" and he gave me a small grunt in response. More awkward silence. We were walking in the same direction.

"I just saw Oliver a little earlier." I started as I awkwardly glanced up at him as we walked. He was bloody tall. "I was having drinks with another friend and we ran into him. He never said anything about you being here in Hogsmeade."

Mr. Wood's face was expressionless as he walked on. "Oliver doesn't know I'm here. I didn't mention my being here since I wouldn't have had any time to get together with him anyway. I came here on business."

"Ah." I simply said, feeling even dumber than Mr. Wood probably took me for.

"I'm acquiring the bookstore here in Hogsmeade for my publishing company."

"Oh, what company?" I asked with feigned interest, already well-aware of what company, being the bonafide stalker I was.

"Obscurus Books. If you're a Hogwarts student you've probably heard of it." he replied.

"Sure. Most of our textbooks come from there." I replied. I hesitated for a moment, and then added, "That's pretty cool, doing publishing. I myself like to write, so I've thought about going into publishing since it's related."

Mr. Wood nodded. "Good for you."

Clearly doesn't give a pixie's ass. What a wanker.

We reached a fork in the road. The path right in front of us led back to Hogwarts, while the other led to various other shops, restaurants and taverns in Hogsmeade. We were each going to head in our own direction, it seemed.

"Er...it was nice to meet you, Mr. Wood." I said, trying to smile pleasantly at him. "Maybe I'll run into you again at the upcoming quidditch final?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him and knowing full well that he wasn't going to be there. Oliver had informed me of this not too long ago when I found him in the owlery, brooding over a letter from his dad.

"I mean," I continued, "Oliver hasn't been able to talk about anything else for weeks, and I know he said something about his parents being there."

I had no idea what had gotten into me, but Oliver's dad was as much of an ass as I suspected him to be, and for some reason that provoked me to be bold. I just hoped I sounded convincing enough as a friend of Oliver's. I had to admit I was trying to talk confidently and give off the impression that he and I were good friends or something, and I was a little afraid that this deception was going to come around and bite me in the butt one day...

"Unfortunately, my wife and I won't be able to make it, and Oliver knows that. We are excited though about his team getting this far...although"--he smiled slightly--"I keep telling my wife not to get her hopes up, since it's not unusual for Oliver to get this far, only to have the cup escape from his fingers every year."

"Well, you know, last year the match was cancelled altogether," I said, crossing my arms over my chest, "what with that Chamber of Secrets business. And really, Gryffindor just seems to have rotten luck every year. They're a really good team...and that's saying a lot, coming from a Hufflepuff."

Mr. Wood cocked an eyebrow at me. His smile broadened a little more. Huh. Kind of creepy. I didn't think him capable of that kind of movement. "Really? You had me thinking you were a Gryffindor." he said.

A Gryffindor! Me? What the hell! I am officially offended! I did not want to be mistaken for a Gryffindor! I mean, good as a team they had, and as nice as they were, I liked being a Hufflepuff and was damn proud of it! I told him all of this, wondering halfway through my mini-sermon if it was wise to tell an intimidating man like Mr. Wood that Gryffindors were all good and well, but they needed to realize that the world did not revolve around them, and that people shouldn't just assume that anyone who shows any level of affinity with that house had to be in Gryffindor too. To my surprise though, he actually laughed a little.

"My apologies then. I was actually a Gryffindor back in my day, but my wife is a former Hufflepuff so I do know where you're coming from."

I began to roll my eyes, but stopped mid-roll. I had somehow gotten comfortable enough around this man to roll my eyes at him, and for some reason that made me feel uncomfortable. Ah, being uncomfortable at being comfortable. Ladies and gentlemen, Suzie Hennessey, the vicious cycle.

Mr. Wood checked his watch and then glanced at me, smiling that tiny excuse of a smile. "Well, I've got to get going, but it was nice meeting you."

I smiled back at him. "You too." _You intimidatingly strange and rude man_, I added in my mind. He gave me a curt nod and headed down the street. He didn't even ask me my name. What a tosser...although, I admittedly felt bad considering him a tosser, because...well. Ok. I'm a bit ashamed to admit why I'm ashamed of considering him a tosser, but here it is: He's Mr. Wood, father of Oliver Wood, the boy I like, the boy who I _think_ likes me...the boy who...sigh. Do I really have to spill it out? Fine. I will. The boy who I could marry. Thus making his father my father-in-law. And it's mean to call your father-in-law a tosser, because, well...he's family. Ok. There. I said it. I'm not even sure Oliver likes me--Denise was right, I'm afraid of admitting he does because I'm afraid I'll be wrong about it. I'm afraid he'll never break up with Madeline. And for all of that, I feel even more pathetic for thinking of him in terms of _marriage _and of his father by extension, thus resulting in my feeling guilty _and_ stupid for thinking of Mr. Wood as a tosser. Maybe a few books off that self-help shelf isn't such a bad idea. Wonder if old Jeremiah could give me a few recommendations...

I glanced down the street that Mr. Wood had headed down. It was fairly crowded, as much as it normally was on a weekend at Hogsmeade. I made a fruitless attempt to spot Mr. Wood to see where he was going. All I could see though was a sea of cloaks and hats. I was about to turn away from the scene and head down the adjacent dirt path that led back to Hogwarts when I noticed one particular cloak standing out in the crowd: It was baby blue, dragging a little on ground since its owner was petite, and I recognized it to be Denise's. I automatically searched for a sign of Vince in the crowd, but he was nowhere to be seen. I frowned. I thought they were going to be spending the entire day together.

I hurried down the street, nearly crashing into Professor McGonagall, who had just emerged from Willoughby's Waxing Parlor (Oh, horrible mental images that will stick with me forever!) and receiving a scolding from her about acting like a wild toddler. When she had finished and had walked away in a huff, I searched the crowd once more, feeling irritable with McGonagall for making me lose Denise. Where had she gone? I spotted her then: she was walking in the opposite direction, back to Hogwarts it seemed. She passed right by me, actually, and had not looked up.

"Denise!" I called after her, turning around and watching her walk on.

"Denise!"

She jumped and turned around, wide-eyed. Teary-eyed.

"Denise..." I said once more, hurrying over to her side. "Denise...what happened? What's wrong?"

"Oh, well--"

"You've been crying. What happened? Where's Vince?" I asked.

She quickly wiped her eyes in attempts to erase any sign of tears. But for naught. She opened her mouth to explain and instead bursted into tears.

I put an arm around her. "Denise...?"

"Vince and I...we broke up."

* * *

Denise and I had been walking in silence for a several minutes. I had an arm around her, and she rested her head against me as we walked in the direction of the Shrieking Shack. Being guarded by a wooded area, it was the only place I could think of to take Denise for some privacy. We sure as hell weren't going to go back to school.

I asked her once what happened, but she simply shrugged and continued to cry, burrowing her head into my shoulder so as to avoid meeting the eyes of curious passers-by. So I left the subject alone. But we were pretty alone now, walking along the narrow dirt path that led to the Shrieking Shack. I bit down on my lower lip, anxiously wondering if I had given her enough time to get herself together so she could tell me what the hell happened on her date.

"Er--Denise?" I glanced down at her uncertainly. "What happened? No one's around now...can't you tell me?"

She looked up for the first time since we ran into each other, taking in her surroundings. We had reached the fenced area that guarded the shack, which allowed visitors to view the Shrieking Shack from a good distance. Denise pulled away from me and walked towards the fence. I followed her.

She turned around to face me as she leaned back against the fence. "We just...broke up. That's all."

I followed suite and leaned next to her. "That's all?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Come on, Denise. I'm your best friend! Spill it. What happened? Walk me through your date."

Denise remained silent for a few moments, but then sighed, closing her eyes. She then opened them and looked straight at me. "Do you remember...the day you and I were skiving off? I had gotten my period, and you...well, you had been upset over your letter from _The Merlin Post _and had..talked to Lupin?"

"Broken down in front of Lupin, more like it. But yeah, I remember that day. We sat around in our dormitory and ate a lot of food. Why? What's it got to do with today?" I asked.

She frowned. "Do you remember...what you said? When we were talking about Oliver and Madeline's relationship? You said Madeline was trampy enough to sleep with some guy she's only been dating a few months..."

And our entire conversation had come rushing back to me.

_"She seems trampy enough to sleep with some guy she's only been dating for a few months." _I had said in the most idiotically nonchalant voice. Oh. I could kill myself, remembering the look on Denise's face when I had said that.

_Her glance had immediately dropped to her lap. Oh man. I was an idiot. How could I have let something like that slip? _I remember thinking.

_"I mean, not trampy..." I said hurriedly. "I just meant--"_

_"Do you see me that way too?" Denise suddenly asked._

Of course I didn't see her that way too! She had to know that! I had even told her so. Oh great. I could just feel my insides rotting. I was a horrible friend. Denise and Vince had broken up and it was all my fault, wasn't it? I'm going to hell in a basket.

Denise shrugged. "I'm sure you didn't mean it as an offense to me."

"Of course I didn't!" I said quickly. "Denise, you _know_ I don't think of you like that. You're so many things, but trampy isn't one of them. Any idiot who's talked to you for even ten seconds would know that!"

"It doesn't matter though," Denise said, glancing down at her feet. "Whatever you meant by it...it just sort of stuck with me. It got me thinking about my relationship with Vince..."

"What about your relationship?"

Denise shrugged, shutting her eyes and frowning as if to hold back tears. "I thought maybe he and I were moving too quickly. So...I mentioned this to Vince over lunch today...I suggested that we...sort of ease up on the intimacy and...you know, give each other some space."

I frowned. "He didn't want space, did he?"

Denise shook her head. "He didn't want space. He got mad and said that we should be moving forward, not backwards."

"What did you say to that?"

"Well, he asked me if I agreed with him on that, and...I don't know. My mind was racing and all I could say to him was 'I don't know.' He probably thought I was reevaluating our whole relationship or something."

"Yikes." I simply said, trying to imagine the look on Vince's face upon being told to give Denise some space. Admittedly, I didn't know him well, but I imagined he didn't look too good.

Denise nodded. "Yeah. Yikes. He looked so hurt. So upset with me."

"Then what happened?" I asked.

"Then we just broke up." Denise replied with a shrug. "He just ended things between us right there and then. He said there was no point in continuing our relationship if that was how I felt."

Denise bowed her head and started crying again. God. I could feel my insides ripping apart from the sight of her. I leaned in towards her and wrapped my arms around her tiny frame, enveloping her in a hug. I was a horrible person. How could I have been so senseless, saying Denise was a tramp? I mean, sure, it was indirect and completely unintentional, but still. I should've had enough sense to be quiet on the subject of sex. Why was I always so sorely lacking in good sense?

"I'm so sorry, Denise." I muttered as I hugged her closer. "I feel like this is all my fault."

Denise shook her head a little against my chest in disagreement. "It's not." she said in practically a whisper. "I messed it up. I brought up the whole thing with him. I was worrying unnecessarily about our relationship."

I sighed and pulled Denise away from me so I could look her in the eye. She glanced up at me wearily. "But...you know, Denise, there's nothing wrong with moving quickly if it feels right. Does it?"

She cocked an eyebrow at me. "Does it what? Feel right?"

"Yeah. Your relationship...did it feel alright to you? Before any of my stupidity had gotten to your head, were you ok with the state of your relationship? Were you happy?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I was happy. Everything felt fine between us."

"So? There you have it!" I said, forcing a smile, "I mean, Vince is a jerk if he's forcing you to move too quickly...but if you're comfortable with your relationship and how things are moving, you shouldn't feel bad about moving quicker than the average relationship. There's nothing wrong with moving quickly if it feels right. Who cares if other people think it's trampy...and no one does!" I added quickly, "No one _should_. But if anyone did, you shouldn't care as long as you and Vince are happy."

Denise smiled ruefully. "We are happy. Well, were. We were happy with how things were going. I guess I just sort of...wigged. I didn't want to be a Madeline."

I grinned. "You could never be a Madeline. Plus, what would people call you, Slutty-Short-Legs?"

Denise made a face and let out a small laugh. "You're the only one who's given her a nickname, you know that, right?"

I shrugged and smiled coyly, remembering my run-ins with Mr. Oliver Wood and Mr. Heinrich Wood. I'd have to tell Denise about them later. "I think you should write to Vince. Tell him all of this, explain why you had kind of wigged out about moving quickly, and if you're really ok with how things were between the two of you, tell him that too."

"I don't know..."

"Denise, you _just _had a fight. It's not like it's too late to fix this!" I said.

Denise shrugged. She opened her mouth to respond, but then shut it as she wheeled around to look over the fence we had been leaning against. There was a rustling sound not too far ahead and that had caught her and my attention.

"It's coming from the Shrieking Shack!" Denise whispered.

Gripping tightly to the barbed wire that prevented Denise and me from coming any closer to the Shrieking Shack, we watched on in hopes for a sign of movement. So intent were we on seeing a thug or someone like Sirius Black tip-toeing out of the shack that the two of us physically jumped back a foot from the fence when we heard a burst of laughter echoeing from the shack.

"Oh, my heart!" Denise breathed, clutching her chest. "That scared me!"

I squinted, trying to see into the distance. That laugh had sounded so familiar. So high-pitched, so obnoxious, so--

"Madeline!" I squeaked.

Madeline Johnson, bonefide slut and owner of two very long legs, had emerged from the Shrieking Shack arm-in-arm, mouth-in-mouth with Roger Davies.

* * *

I dropped my fork onto my plate for the third time that evening. It was no use trying to eat. I had way too much on my mind and absolutely no one to talk to. Denise opted out of dinner, deciding to spend a few hours alone in our dormitory to have a good cry and to think about what to write to Vince. I offered to stay with her, but she insisted that she wanted to be alone. I made a counter-offer though and insisted that she help herself to my stash of honedukes chocolates that I kept in my underwear drawer. She accepted, smiling slightly and assuring me that she would be fine.

And then, being the selfless broad that she is, Denise asked me if I was going to tell Oliver about what we had seen out by the Shrieking Shack. And of course, being the amazingly perceptive friend she is, Denise asked me if something was up since I apparently looked like I had just gotten a stroke at the mention of Oliver's name. So I gave her the digest version of what had happened. How I hung out with Katie (leaving out the fact that we had a _really_ great time; I didn't want Denise to feel insecure or competitive or anything because I had a great time with another girl...she was still my best friend!), how Oliver had been looking at the Three Broomsticks, how he joined us briefly to take Katie away, and how I ran into Oliver's father half an hour later. Well, how I stalked him and _then_ ran into him. Denise actually laughed for the first time that day when I told her how I accidentally addressed him as Mr. Wood. Mmm. Well, I'm glad in any case that people can take delight in my suffering.

Denise seems fairly certain that Oliver likes me since he apparently can't stop himself from looking at me like I was a porterhouse steak or something. (Denise's words, not mine. I would never refer to myself as a porterhouse steak. I don't even like steak!) I still feel a bit funny acknowledging or even entertaining the idea of Oliver liking me. It just seems too foreign...I mean, after being so used to the idea of him not liking me, of liking Madeline...the true whore of Hufflepuff...

We did at least agree that Oliver deserved to know about Madeline snogging Roger Davies. A thought that made me lose my apetite for dinner altogether. Roger Davies. Of all people to snog, she had to do it with _him_?

It was all lovely for him though, wasn't it? Two seventh years in one year. He was good, I'll give him that. A very charming fifteen year old. But still. It was gross on a number of levels. A) He's young. B) I saw him today at the Three Broomsticks with another girl who's a year below him and I had no idea if Madeline knew that, C) Roger and I have snogged a few times. Now Madeline's gone and snogged him. She and I are now connected by a single perverted guy, and this is truly the one point that grosses me out the most. Madeline and I have gone for the same guy. That's disgusting.

Ah. Right. I forgot about Oliver.

Well, he doesn't count. He's special and pretty and not at all sleazy. Roger's just icky because he'll snog anyone who's got breasts. Madeline goes for those kinds of guys because she's the female version of Roger. She goes for anyone who's got...er...male reproductive organs. And anyone who's good-looking, I suppose. She's awfully superficial like that.

I picked up my fork once more, determined to eat my mashed potatoes that had since grown cold. Hmm. They've gone chunky on me. I made a face and dropped my fork. Screw it. I'm done.

I glanced around the great hall. Students were starting to leave. I suppose now was as good a time as any to talk to Oliver, right? He was still sitting at the Gryffindor table, after all. He was helping himself to more mashed potatoes. He certainly could eat.

I sat there for a few moments, watching Oliver shove of a mouthful of potatoes into his mouth. How on earth did he eat so much and stay so thin? I mean, he wasn't a stick like Professor Lupin; he was quite burly, actually. He had a broad chest and you could tell he was built. Kind of like Kingsley Shacklebolt, but a bit smaller, and not as muscular and bulky. But he also had narrow hips and thin legs (a few years ago I saw him jogging outside and he had on the tiniest shorts! I think he heard Denise and me laughing at him, because it was from that point that I noticed he wasn't very keen on my company). All in all, he had a very nice body. And I've mentioned before how gracefully he moves sometimes. Like a dancer. Oh, mental note to find a way to break into the Gryffindor common room so I can go into his dormitory and check the place for ballet slippers. I've had this image of him practicing ballet in secret for the longest time...taking lessons with Dumbledore. And for some reason I keep seeing Snape in the background, wearing a black leotard...

I heard Oliver's voice in the distance and snapped out of my tulle-infested reverie. I glanced over at the Gryffindor table and saw Oliver getting up to leave. He was saying bye to Angelina Johnson. Ah, crap. Chance to talk to him slipping away oh-so-fast...

I quickly got up, and in the hurry to catch up to Oliver I almost tripped over the bench I had been sitting on. Damn legs, always getting in the way. One blessing in having shorter legs, I suppose. I would probably be a mess if I had Madeline's legs. Though I suppose having her legs would allow me to catch up with Oliver more easily.

"Hey, Oliver!" I called after him as he headed out of the great hall and made a right, disappearing from my sight.

As I came out of the great hall I glanced to my right. He was several yards ahead of me.

"Oliver!" I repeated, quickening my pace. He didn't hear me.

I was finally just a few feet behind him. "Ollie!"

He darted around to see who had dared to use that name with him. He cast a glare in my direction when he saw me. "I'm going to kill Bell for this. After the quidditch finals, I'm going to kill her."

I rolled my eyes but smiled as I joined him. "Well, sure. Because being one chaser short would be quite the pickle. Best to commit murder at the most opportune moment."

He smiled. "Exactly."

I was still smilling at him, but it was forced now. Awkward. We had fallen silent and I didn't quite know how to tell him that his girlfriend was cheating on him. I mean, sure, I hate Madeline, and I hated Oliver when he first started dating her. And maybe he seems a little less keen on her than he used to and is giving me more attention...but still, it's his girlfriend. He's going to be hurt when he finds out that she's been off snogging Roger Davies. I had this sudden mental image of Oliver and Roger dueling each other in the name of Madeline's honor. Not that she had much honor. I'm pretty sure she lost her honor years ago to some scruffy-looking drug addict named Randy behind some dumpster in Knockturn Alley. Well, ok. I made that up. But I wouldn't be surprised if it were true...

"Er...what's up?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at me. "Is everything ok? You look a bit peaky."

My eyes widened slightly. "No, no, I'm fine! I just...well, I wanted to talk to you about something--privately." I added when I noticed a few students walking by, glancing briefly at Oliver and me.

He frowned. "Er...ok." He glanced around. "Well..there's an empty classroom down the hall. Want to go in there?"

I agreed and followed him there, my heart racing even faster than it usually did in the presence of Oliver Wood. We were going to be alone in a few seconds. I mean, I wasn't anticipating anything dirty to happen in there. But still. We were going to be alone. I was going to give him bad news. And as much as I disliked Madeline, I'd probably have to comfort him without calling her a tramp.

"So what's up?" he asked again as we entered the classroom and he closed the door behind us.

I sighed, falling into the nearest desk. "Ok. I really hate to be the one to tell you this, Oliver...but..."

Oliver took a seat in the desk next to me and turned it to face me. "But what? What happened?"

I frowned. "Well...I saw Madeline today in Hogsmeade...she was with another guy. I saw them snogging."

Oliver nodded slowly and then leaned back into his chair and shrugged. "Oh...well, I suppose Madeline can snog whomever she pleases. I broke up with her this morning."

Words cannot describe the current sensations in my chest. I'm actually surprised that I haven't gotten a heart attack and died yet. They broke up??? How...why...when...oh wait. He already answered when. But...sigh. _Wow_.

Remembering that Oliver was still sitting across from me and that it would be completely inappropriate for me to get up and do a happy dance at this moment, I frowned with what hopefully looked like something sympathetic.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know..." I said in a genuinely surprised tone. Hey, I might've needed to fake distress, but I really was surprised at this!

He shrugged, smiling slightly at me. "I honestly don't care much. She didn't really care about me. And," he added quickly, sitting up straighter now, "I don't mean to sound all bitter and stuff, but it was always about her. I was kind of sick of it."

I nodded. "Sure."

"I mean, it's not that I'm asking to be mollycoddled or anything," he continued, "but the occasional 'let's talk about you for a change' would've been nice. It never happened with her."

I didn't know what else to do but nod in understanding. I definitely understood that. I could definitely see that...it was definitely Madeline behavior. "I know what you mean." I finally said.

He shrugged again. "I suppose she's probaby happy to be free from me if she's already hooking up with people the same day we break up. Either that or she's pissed at me and is attempting to get back at me or something by snogging the first guy she sees."

"I'm sure it's the former." I said with a smile. He cocked an eyebrow at me. Ugh. I'm an idiot. "I mean," I said quickly with a laugh, "Not that she's jumping with joy or anything...and not that she should, I mean...it's her loss"--I felt myself go pink; Oliver smiled slightly at this--"But I mean, she's not like that, to get pissed off over a break up. She doesn't really get emotionally invested in relationships. She's usually just in it for snogging and...stuff." I finished lamely, suddenly feeling too shy to mention shagging in front of Oliver. Oh, I was horrible at break-ups. Talking about break-ups with others. I suddenly had this image of Denise sitting in bed and thrusting pins into a voodoo doll of me for not being better at the comforting thing for her.

He laughed a little and nodded. "Yes. That's Madeline. She never cared much for going beyond those things. Apart from knowing my last name and the fact that I play quidditch, I don't think she ever got to know much else about me. And she never told me much else about herself. She likes the tea at Madam Pudifoot's. She hates the Weird Sisters. And she likes things clean. That's all I ever got to learn about her while we were dating. Some relationship, eh?"

I smiled slightly. "It wasn't meant to be. She needs to be with someone who's more...well..."

Urgh. How does one say _someone who adores superficial bimbos_ without sounding cruel?

Oliver laughed. "Someone who's got more in common with her?" he offered.

I grinned. "You're very good with words. That's exactly it. She's got to be with someone who's like her."

Oliver nodded and then leaning forward a little in his seat, he asked, "Incidentally, who was she with?"

"Huh?"

"You saw her snogging some guy. Who was it?" he asked.

I couldn't help but smirk now. "Roger Davies."

And for some reason, both of us started laughing.


	21. Vladimir Nabokov & Dreamy Detentions

_A/N: It's been so long. Longer than usual, I think. Partly from my starting law school, and also partly from my dropping out of law school. I hated it, left it w/out regrets, but was still sort of emotionally…out of it. Long story, but on the plus side, I get to sit in on classes related to the field I want to pursue now, including cough a class of my lupin-esque professor. Oh, the joy! Except I have the sneaking suspicion that he finds me intolerably weird/stupid/annoying. Either that or there's a lot of sexual tension between us. :P_

_I know, it's probably the former. :/_

_Oh yeah, other excuse: I hurt my hand so it's hard to write. It feels very rebirth-of-Voldemort-in-GoF / Dumbledore's-hand-in-HBP. Owie. _

_But yeah, sorry about the really, really, really long wait!! All of you returning readers…I just love you. Really. I would've abandoned me by now. (_

_And speaking of all you lover-ly reviewers (I have Count Olaf's voice in my head as I say that lol) ….you all are awesome, and I greatly appreciate the time you guys take to leave me reviews. Up til now though I've tried to respond to each and every one, but I'm having a hard time keeping up…so pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaase don't take offense if I don't respond to your reviews. I do read and appreciate and love each review…just responding to all of them is time-consuming. I hope you all understand. Ok. Thank you for reading my ridiculously long author's note. I promise the chapter's even longer though!! )_

* * *

Chapter 21: Vladimir Nabokov and Dreamy Detentions

* * *

Oliver quickly shoved a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. So hurriedly was he trying to get through his breakfast that he didn't seem to notice that some of his eggs had dropped from the corner of his mouth onto his lap. I, however did notice, and couldn't help but smile. Yes, I was aware that watching a guy eat breakfast was mildly eccentric, and smiling at fallen bits of scrambled eggs made me look a bit creepy, but hey, no one was watching. 

"Suzie, it wouldn't kill you to not look at Oliver for about five minutes to eat your own breakfast. I bet your food's already cold."

Well, ok, except Denise.

Still smiling, I turned to face her, propping my chin against my right hand. My elbow landed on something sticky. Syrup. Oh well.

"I don't mind much." I replied.

Denise rolled her eyes but smiled back. "You're adorable."

Smile gone. I glared at her. "I am not."

"I bet you'd be less offended if _Ollie_ were the one calling you adorable." Denise replied.

We looked at each other and broke into giggles. We were both quite fond of the nickname Ollie now. Unbeknownst to dear Ollie, naturally. Of course, he knew I liked the nickname as I had taken it upon myself to call him that at least five times in the past twenty four hours, once this morning when I ran into him on my way to breakfast, and the rest of the occurrences took place yesterday during our chat in which I told him Madeline was cheating on him and he replied saying he had actually broken up with her. We lingered together for about twenty minutes or so talking about how Roger Davies was a good match for Madeline, then spent a good deal of time bashing Madeline (I told him how she was affectionately known as Slutty-long-legs amongst some—which proved to be a mistake since he sighed and nodded appreciatively, admitting that she had a fine pair of legs and he'd miss them). It was wonderful, save for the Slutty-long-legs part.

"I don't think he'd ever find me adorable though." I said in all seriousness. "I'm too…I don't know. I can't see him thinking of me as adorable…"

"Only as sexy…" Denise finished as she buttered a slice of toast for herself.

I grinned. "One can only hope. Now, Professor Lupin on the other hand…I can see _him_ seeing me as adorable."

Denise smiled. "But not sexy?"

I pouted. "Sexy too! Adorable _and _sexy!"

"You can't have your cake and eat it too," Denise laughed. "Anyway, I'm surprised you're even thinking of Lupin at this point. You've practically got Oliver. You give it a little more time and he's going to be asking you out."

I felt myself shiver at the thought. I have liked Oliver for a very long time, and the idea of actually being with him seemed very unreal. Impossible. Something for an alternate universe Suzie, but not _me_.

But here we were. Oliver was available now and starting to show an interest in me. It was weird to admit it, but Denise was right. The possibility of he and I dating was just around the corner. Oh God. Dating. Dating_Oliver_. I think I just lost my appetite.

It all seems so far away, but what if we did date? Wouldn't it be all awkward? I mean, hello, it's me! The queen of all things awkward! If we dated I'd probably ruin everything by saying stupid things or just acting stupidly, and he'd get scared away and run back to Madeline, and by this time of course she'll probably be some famous supermodel posing on the cover of _Playwizard_ or something. And of course they'll live happily ever after because no guy can go wrong with a supermodel with long legs. Oh, this is so unfair. We haven't even dated yet and we're bound for disaster already…

"I'm not hungry anymore." I said, slowly pushing my plate away from me. Denise glanced up from her own breakfast and smiled.

"You will be when we're in Lupin's class in twenty minutes and your mind is no longer on Oliver, so you might as well eat." She replied.

I couldn't help but grin. "Well, my mind will just shift gears to Lupin then. I'll still be too busy lusting over someone to think about hunger."

Denise rolled her eyes at me. "Oh, just eat something already. Weak, undernourished girls aren't particularly attractive."

I was about to retort with a "look who's talking" but shut my mouth. Denise wasn't exactly anorexic looking, but she did look slightly weaker, largely because she hasn't been eating much (or really doing much of anything) these past couple of days, what with her breaking up with Vince.

I wish she'd talk about it a little. I mean, we talked about it the day it happened—at Hogsmeade when she first told me they had broken up—and later that night, we were up to the wee hours of the morning talking about the whole thing (I finally forced her to just sit down and write a letter to Vince to candidly tell him how she felt, and with some reluctance she sent it the following morning) but that was it. Moratorium on the subject of Vince. Although I suppose I wouldn't want to talk about it either if I was anxiously waiting for his reply.

I glanced again at Denise and saw that while she was taking tiny bites of her breakfast, she paused every few moments to glance up, as if she was expecting something to drop on her.

I dropped my hand onto Denise's free hand and gave it a squeeze. "You only sent the letter yesterday." I said quietly.

Denise looked started for about a millisecond, but then proceeded to nod understandingly. "I know."

"So he probably only just got it." I replied. "Give it some time."

She made to smile in response, but it came out looking rather weak and forced, so I grinned for the both of us. "He'll write. I know he will." I said.

And as if on cue, about a hundred owls came rushing into the great hall, circling around the tables to drop off letters and packages. I nearly jumped when a letter landed between Denise and me. Bloody owls. Seven years at this school and I still haven't gotten used to them.

I picked it up and turned the letter over. "It's for you," I said, seeing Denise's name scribbled in tiny, pointed handwriting on the front of the envelope.

I glanced meaningfully at her as I handed her the letter. Wow. I was so good at this friend thing! I _just_ told her Vince was going to write…and…

"It's not from him." She said quietly as she began unfolding the parchment.

I frowned. "Oh? Who then?"

She did not respond. Her eyes were glued to the parchment in front of her. I waited quietly for a few moments, watching her eyes shifting ever so slightly as they moved across the parchment.

"Well?" I asked, eyes widening with curiosity when she finished reading and dropped the letter on her plate. "Who was it? Is everything alright?"

Denise nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Everything's fine…it's just"—she glanced at me and I saw that she was smiling rather nervously—"It was from Gringotts. I got the job."

The next thing that happened was something I'd have gladly let Professor Lockhart obliviate from my memory.

I clapped my hands and squealed so loudly I think I startled the entire great hall. But of course, I hadn't noticed that in my excitement and proceeded to throw my arms around Denise to congratulate her. See, bad idea because not only was Denise a tiny little woman who could get knocked over by a feather, but the tables in the great hall were picnic bench style—no backs. So naturally, the force of my hug knocked us both down. Denise fell first; I fell on top of her. It took me several seconds to realize what had happened, which of course had given the rest of the school ample time to take the whole scene in. (I'm almost positive that one of the guys who whistled was Roger Davies.)

I blushed as I pulled myself off of Denise and giggled. "Er…congratulations?"

* * *

I sighed as I watched Professor Lupin magic some important definitions on the board. He moved his wand across the board in the gentle swish-and-flick manner Professor Flitwick had tried drilling into our heads in our first year. God, that man. Lupin, not Flitwick of course. He did it all so sexily. What I would give to be that chalk board… 

Wait, did I just say that? Oh, Suzie Hennessey. You have reached new level of pathetic desperation.

Ah, but I can't help it! He's just so deliciously sexy—the way he writes, the way he turns on his heel to face the class again, the way he looks at you with those tired but penetrating eyes…I almost feel a little violated when he looks at me. Well, violated in a good way, if that makes any sense. Gosh, I could just sit here all day and get lost in his eyes, in his movements, in his voice…

"Suzie?"

Then again, maybe not.

I snapped up in my seat, suddenly aware of the pounding of my heart. Lupin was standing a few feet from me, hands in his pockets. Oh, what I would give to be that pocket…

Ah, right. Lupin just called on me. Soooo not the time to fantasize.

"Yes?" I asked, knowing full well that my response would be received with scattered laughter and a slightly irritated Professor Lupin.

He smiled slightly as he turned on his heel and returned to the front of the classroom. "Suzie," He said again as he turned to face all of us. "What did I just say?"

I felt myself blush as I folded my hands over my lap. He really did look a little irritated. Oh, this is humiliating—I managed to irritate him with my stupidity. Here was this brilliant man trying to reach out to me by calling on me in class, probably as an attempt to convince himself that I was in fact a semi-intelligent woman capable of following a class discussion...and I have to go disappoint him with a blank stare that says "Sorry, sir, I'm even more unintelligent than you've previously given me credit for. My neurons transmit information at a sloth's pace. Please call on someone else in the meantime."

I'm currently feeling very unworthy of his presence. I want to hide, or at least grimace at him and cry "Leave me alone! I'm not as smart as you!"

But then I suppose being seen as a bit dumb would be the least of my worries.

"I don't know," I said, smiling weakly at him. "I wasn't paying attention. I'm sorry."

What on earth possessed me to tell the truth?! Ok, quick, give him a cute smile…something that says _You can't get mad at me, I'm too adorable!_

The anticipated scattered laughter came, but Lupin's was not amongst them. I laughed nervously. "But you knew that already, didn't you? That's why you called on me."

I watched as Lupin bit down on his lower lip, and then smiled slightly. "I must confess that was my reason for calling on you. You're quite perceptive, Suzie."

I grinned. Aw. He's so cute, calling me perceptive. For a few seconds there I felt like I was treading dangerous waters, but there he goes, acting all sweet…

"Yes, I am." I replied, still grinning at him.

Lupin returned to the front of his desk, leaning back against it, digging his hands once more into his pockets. "Practically clairvoyant." He continued. "I'm assuming you know then what my course of action is going to be."

I sighed. "You're going to take points from Hufflepuff, aren't you?"

Lupin smiled. "Of course not. You're going to have detention."

* * *

About twenty minutes had gone by since Lupin's detention pronouncement, but it felt like hours. Detention. _Detention!_ I mean, sure, I've gotten detention before, but with McGonagall…and Snape! They're meanies and…it's part of the Hogwarts description to have detention at least once with each of them. But with Lupin, the sweetheart of the Hogwarts faculty…you have to be a complete bad-ass to land a detention with him. The Weasley twins get detention with him for all their pranks. Roger Davies has been known to get a couple of detentions with Lupin for one too many public displays of perviness. There were just the scattered bits of detentions here and there Lupin gave out, but he definitely wasn't known for being a detention-giver. He was too nice. And yet somehow I managed to push his buttons and landed myself in detention with him. I feel about two inches tall. 

I don't know what the big deal is anyway that I wasn't paying attention. It happens all the time. And I was just feeling distracted. Yes, by the sexiness that is Lupin, but other things too! The only reason my mind had wandered to him in the first place was because I was just feeling a little depressed. I'm happy for Denise and all about her job—I really am—but it only reminds me of how I _don't_ have a job waiting for me when I graduate, and I'm pretty sure won't. And yes, I know Oliver's being cute and leaving me all these bloody hints that he likes me, but nothing's for certain there either…and I know, Denise doesn't have a boyfriend anymore either, but still, it might work out between her and Vince. And she's got Gringotts too, at least. Huh. Didn't Denise say once that Vince worked at Gringotts? Yes! When she first…did it with him…she said they had gone to his new flat in London—new because he had just gotten a job at Gringotts! Oh! Awkward! Poor Denise.

Oh, this is so depressing. Denise has all this awkwardness to deal with…and I have nothing, except my imagination that has a tendency to run kind of loose in Lupin's class.

Still, that's no reason to give me a detention! Shouldn't he be used to my distracted tendencies by now? It's not like this is the first time he's called me out for not paying attention…

Yeah, I'm hearing myself. I'm nuts and I deserve detention.

But even so, you'd think Lupin would maybe feel for me. He has to know nothing in my life is working out—I cried on his shoulder in the not-too-distant past. He knows I've got a nice big stack of rejection letters in my trunk. _Magical Monthly. Witch Weekly, Teen Witch, Merlin Post, The Daily Prophet_…oh, well, _The Daily Prophet_ never even bothered to get back to me with a rejection, that's how unworthy I am of them. Oh, and _Wizard's Review_ also rejected me too. Lupin knows all of this, and on top of that my best friend gets a job, and I _know_ Lupin doesn't know that part…but still.

And yes, I know I'm being completely unreasonable and silly, and stupid to think that Lupin would cut me some slack for the above reasons. I know he's a bloody teacher with ethics and an undying need to treat everyone equally, but still. Let me fume a little.

Another tortuous ten minutes later, class finally ended. As I packed my things, I glanced cautiously at Lupin to see if I had a shot at apologizing or saying_something_ to him to make amends. But his back was turned to me as he was erasing the board. Immediate reaction: _He's freezing me out on purpose! He can't even face me, he's so mad at me_. Followed by: _Or…he's just erasing the board because that's what he does at the end of class! Wait! Except he doesn't! He's usually surrounded by students after class who want to ask him questions about the lecture! Ah, and there's Percy now. And Madeline. Woah. Madeline! Since when did she ever need to ask for clarifications after class? She's too much of a bimbo to care about what she missed in class! Oh God. What if she's talking to him just for the sake of talking to him? Is she seriously trying to steal __**my**__ professor? My professor…really, Suzie. You're nutters._

Oh, why do I always complicate things?

"Hey, Suzie! Come on!"

I glanced up and saw that Denise had already packed her things and was waiting for me. "Ah, sorry." I said quickly, dumping my remaining books in my bag. "I'm ready now."

Throwing the strap of my bag over my shoulder, I forced a smile at Denise and followed her out, glancing once more at Lupin—he was laughing at something Madeline had said.

"So," Denise started after a few moments of silence, "detention with Lupin."

I glanced sideways at her and saw that she was smiling slightly. "Yes indeed. Though I'm sure it's not going to be anything like the detentions he's given me in my dreams."

Denise rolled her eyes and laughed. "For a moment there I thought you were actually upset by your detention with Lupin. You're not, are you? I mean…when he gave it to you—oh stop sniggering"—she added when I burst into giggles at hearing 'when he gave it to you'—"when he gave you detention you kind of froze for a second in class."

I shrugged. "Well…I was surprised, I'll admit that. He's never given me detention for not paying attention in class…and you know he's caught me a million times."

Denise shrugged this time. "That might just be it. Maybe it was just one too many times for him and he needed to put his foot down. Plus…"

"Yeah?"

She shrugged again, looking hesitant to continue. "Well…plus, I don't know, Suzie, Lupin's pretty lax in general, but he tends to show even more leniency with you and maybe he decided to just…like I said, put his foot down in front of everyone."

I cocked an eyebrow and she quickly continued on, "I mean, that doesn't mean…well, it_could_ mean, but not necessarily…"

I sighed, growing slightly impatient. "What does it mean? What could it not necessarily mean?"

Denise frowned at me. "I figured you might automatically jump to the conclusion that Lupin might like you or something because he's more lenient with you. And I was trying to say that it's possible, but not necessarily the case. He might be lenient with you for a number of reasons."

For some reason, I felt a vein in my forehead throb ever-so-slightly. I should be flattered that Denise thinks Lupin's extra lenient with me…and the possibility of Lupin liking me is…well, not only extremely far off, but additionally flattering and exciting. Yet I wasn't exactly excited in a good way right now. What did she mean by jumping to the conclusion that he likes me? How big does she think my ego is that I assume all guys like me? And who's to say Lupin's more lenient with me than others? I've certainly never noticed that.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, my voice going slightly sharper than I had intended. "He's lenient with everyone."

Denise smiled slightly. "But more so with you. He doesn't give detentions that often, I know, but there were plenty of times that others have gotten detentions when you've only lost house points or cheeky warnings from him for similar misbehaviors.

"Like what?"

"The toffee incident with Madeline?" Denise reminded me. "He knew you had instigated the whole thing and he just lectured you. And me. I imagine if anyone else had done it, they probably would've gotten a much harsher punishment than a lecture."

I fell silent, considering this. It was true, Lupin may have a slightly higher tolerance level for my stupidity over others…and his having a crush on me could definitely explain that…but I wasn't about to assume that.

"Fine." I said, agreeing with Denise, "but I know that doesn't mean he fancies me or anything."

She nodded slowly in response, blushing slightly. "Good. I just…I didn't want you getting your hopes up at the possibility."

I rolled my eyes, feeling increasingly irritated. "How stupid do you think I am to bank my hopes on a professor, who, by the way has never shown any romantic interest in me?"

"I don't think you're stupid, Suzie—I was just trying to be more cautious in my comments! When I told you Lupin gave you a detention to set his foot down because in the past he's always been very lenient with you, my mind just automatically shifted into the how-will-Suzie-interpret-that mode. I didn't want you to get the wrong idea." Denise replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You have a how-will-Suzie-interpret-that mode?" I repeated, feeling my voice rise a little. "Because I'm just one of those crazy girls whose imagination just runs away with them every time a guy's at stake, right? The moment someone describes a guy's action, I automatically begin parsing it with hopes of finding some logic to prove that he likes me. That's how you see me?"

"Suzie! I didn't mean it like that! You're just reading too much into this—"

I laughed. "Well, that's just vintage Suzie then, isn't it? Parsing everyone's words, everyone's actions, hoping that all signs point to me."

Denise frowned. "Come on, Suzie. Don't be so sensitive about this! You're just upset that Lupin gave you a detention."

"That's not why I'm upset," I snapped, "I'm upset because you think that I think Lupin thinks I'm hot or something, and I'm not that stupid!"

Denise was still frowning, though this time with a distinct mark of confusion. "Er…who thinks what?"

I stomped my foot angrily. "Why would I think he fancies me? Why would I think anyone fancies me? But you obviously think I'm presumptuous enough to consider things like that. _That's_ why I'm mad!"

"Suzie—" Denise began, but I cut her off.

"Look, just drop it, ok?" I said. "I have to go."

We had stopped in front of the foot of the staircase that would take us to Transfiguration. "But we're both heading for McGonagall's next." Denise said in a quieter voice.

I glanced at my watch. "We've got another twenty minutes before class starts. I'm going to go to the library and drop off a book that's due."

"But—"

"I'll just see you in class." I said curtly, and turned on my heel to leave in the opposite direction.

* * *

Falling onto my stomach, I sighed and peeked under my bed. 

Where the hell was it?

I glanced at the clock that hung between my and Denise's beds. I had another fifteen minutes to get to transfiguration. Plenty of time, so long as I found the book I needed to return within the next couple of minutes.

Finding nothing under my bed except one of my spell books from sixth year and the ugly handbag my aunt had given me for Christmas, I pulled myself back up on all fours and glanced around the room. _Lolita_, where _are_ you?!

I had finished it two days ago—_Lolita_. It's a book by this Russian muggle named Vladimir Nabokov. I randomly came across it in the muggle studies section in the library a few days ago when I was there with Denise. I had gotten kind of bored while she did her research on the development of electricity and so I sort of wandered into the muggle literature area. And then I found it. _Lolita. Light of my life, fire of my loins_. Hey, Nabokov's words, not mine! Anyway, I was completely intrigued by these opening lines (ok, maybe just the "fire of my loins" part, but whatever) so I had no choice but to check it out. I read it in one night, that's how amazing it was. Of course, that same night I ended up having a dream that Lupin was Doctor Humbert Humbert and that I was Lolita—except I was actually of age. Oh, it was wonderful.

From that point I completely fell in love with the sexy genius that was Vladimir Nabokov, that is until I gushed to Denise about how sexy his writing was. She picked up my copy of the book, glanced at the back cover and frowned.

"Ew…this is Vladimir Nabokov?" she asked, holding the back cover up to show me the picture of Nabokov.

"Oh." I had said, my face falling in disappointment. He wasn't particularly attractive. It was quite annoying. I mean, he goes off and writes this amazing book, writing about love and passion like no other, and he has to be ugly. Well, not ugly, but certainly not good-looking. Damn Denise for enlightening me.

Hmph. That's the second time I've mentally damned Denise in the past five minutes. Naturally, I'm still mad at her about her Lupin comments. Of course he doesn't like me—what on earth would possess me to think that? I mean, ok. Maybe she's right, that he does cut me a little more slack than he does everyone else, and maybe his giving me a detention today was his way of saying "no more of that", and maybe I am in fact more upset than I should be about getting a detention from him, and maybe all of these things are somewhat related to me wishing Lupin would like me, but still. She doesn't have to shove these facts right under my nose and then assume I was going to do some wishful thinking.

Oh bloody hell. Thirteen minutes left.

I glanced frantically around the dormitory. Let's see, I finished the book two days ago, and it was three in the morning…I was in bed…oh, and then I went to the toilet! But I didn't take the book with me…huh. Ok, I came back, climbed back into bed…reread a few passages from the book, and then I think I drifted off to sleep. So…

I pulled myself up and threw back the covers from my bed. And there was _Lolita_, pushed up against the edge of my bed where the mattress met the wall. How did I sleep with _Lolita_ for two straight nights and not even notice?

Too distracted by my time constraint to entertain any double entendres, I grabbed the book along with my bag and rushed out of the dormitory.

Cursing myself as I hurried up the flight of stairs that would lead me to the library, I glanced at my watch. Ten minutes. I could do it. Maybe. McGonagall will have my hide though if I show up late. Why oh why did I choose to run an errand between class? Oh yeah, mad at Denise…wanted to avoid her.

Slowing down just as I reached the double doors of the library so as to not endure a scolding from Madam Pince for crossing the threshold of her domain like a barbarian, I quietly entered the library. Ten minutes left.

I headed towards the main circulation desk where the book drop-off slot was, glancing around to see if Madam Pince was in the vicinity. The last thing I needed was for her swoop down on me and detain me while she examined my library book. Fortunately, Pince was nowhere to be found, so with a sigh of relief I dropped _Lolita_ in through the drop-off slot. Excellent. I had plenty of time to get back to class. Except I noticed in the corner of my eye that Oliver had appeared from behind a bookshelf in the far corner of the library with a small stack of books in his arms. God. He carries them so sexily. And he looks so strong, too, actually kind of like his dad.

Oh! His dad! I saw him at Hogsmeade the other day! But I never told Oliver! Well, there wasn't much of an occasion to tell Oliver, I suppose, what with the excitement over his breaking up with Madeline and whatnot. And I guess there really isn't any point in telling him I met his dad, is there? What would I say? "Hey Oliver, I met your dad!" Awkward silence. "He's a complete ass and I'm sorry you have him for a father." And then I would proceed to get hexed by Oliver. Hmm. Best to keep the encounter to myself, I suppose.

But ok. Huge dilemma. My business here in the library is done, so I could just leave right now and get to class on time as I originally intended and remain in McGonagall's good books. Or…I could accidentally-on-purpose run into Oliver and risk arriving late for class and landing a double detention with McGonagall and Lupin. Hmm. This is a tough one to call.

"Oi! Hey Suzie!"

It took me a few seconds to realize Oliver was waving at me. Aw, shucks. I guess the situation's out of my hands! It would be rude to brush off Oliver just to be on time to class. I had better stay. I mean, it's the only polite thing to do, right?

"Why, hello Ollie. How are you today?" I asked, grinning at him as he approached me.

He glared at me and dropped his library books on Madam Pince's desk. "I know you're never supposed to hit girls, but I swear, it's going to happen one day."

I was immediately tempted to bend over and tell him he was welcome to hit me, but I suppose that would be a bit slutty of me. Not to mention it would scare him away. And land me a detention with Madam Pince if she saw. Actually, that would be kind of funny if she caught me…

"Sorry." I said, still grinning at Oliver, not sorry at all. He seemed to pick up on that, as he simply rolled his eyes and glanced around the library for any signs of Madam Pince. "Are you heading to transfiguration? We've got class in a few minutes."

"Ah, yeah," he said absently as he waved at someone in the distance. I glanced around and saw that it was Madam Pince and he was trying to get her attention. Oh, bloody hell, that old bat is coming this way. Much as I like Oliver, I don't know if he's worth enduring _her_ company, even for a few minutes. "I just needed to get some books for our research paper. I wanted to show them to McGonagall and see what she thinks of them. You know how she's kind of picky with what sources we use."

I nodded sagely. I remember McGonagall docking points off this assignment Denise and I had done together about veelas because she didn't like our sources. She didn't think they were scholarly enough, which was rather annoying because we got the damn books from the library so if anything she should just take it out with Madam Pince. Heh. I just had a mental image of them dueling. McGonagall would obviously win, but it would be entertaining to see them have at it for a few minutes.

Madam Pince had joined us behind her desk and had snatched Oliver's books from out of his arms to check them out. Hmm. Maybe I should go.

"Alright, well, I guess I'll see you in class then." I said, smiling at Oliver.

"Oh, wait for me," he said, glancing from me to Madam Pince. She was shoving a slip of paper towards Oliver to sign for one of his books. "I'll walk with you."

Bloody hell. My insides are doing cartwheels.

"Alright." I replied as casually as I could. Ah, who cares if McGonagall gives me detention for being late? Maybe she'll give one to Oliver too, and we'll have it together…

In another minute we were out of the library and racing to get to class. Well, I was racing anyway. Oliver was just walking at his normal brisk pace, which equaled to marathon-training for me. We had a few minutes left, and he assured me that we'd get to class on time.

"So," I started, or rather, wheezed. "Quidditch match this weekend. The final one. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. The big one! Are you excited?"

Oliver glanced sideways at me and smiled a bit nervously. "You have no idea."

I grinned. "You're a nervous wreck, aren't you?"

He sighed. "I think I've had two panic attacks this week."

I giggled, only to receive a glare from Oliver. "You're insane." I replied. "You all are great. You'll crush Slytherin!"

He shook his head as we rounded a corner and began climbing one of the staircases. "It's not just that! I"—he paused and glanced around, as if afraid of being overheard—"I heard there's going to be some scouts at the game. So…I've got the pressure of making sure we win _and_ looking good for the pros."

What is he talking about? He _always_ looks good. Oh, wait. He meant with quidditch. Heh. Nevermind.

I smiled. "You'll be fine. And I swear, I'm not just saying that. I may not know a whole lot about quidditch, but I do know you're quite good. I'm sure you'll have no trouble impressing them."

There was a moment of silence which made me feel awkward, thinking that perhaps that was all a bit much for me to say and I had made Oliver feel awkward. But thankfully, he spoke up again.

"Thanks." He said with a small smile. It was a small smile. A cute, little lopsided one. I daresay a sentimental, mushy kind of smile you give to someone right before you snog them. God, somebody slap me. Or snog me. Well, not somebody as in anybody. Oliver. Let Oliver snog me!

"Ah, we're here, and right on time." Oliver continued as he glanced at his watch. I looked straight ahead and realized we were by McGonagall's class now. Sigh. Timing is never on my side.

* * *

_Bloody hell_! 

Is Denise trying to give me a heart attack or something? I jumped slightly in my seat at the provocation. Denise was sitting behind me and had jabbed me in the back with her quill. What a bitch.

Ok, that was mean. But I'm still mad at her.

I waited a few seconds, and when McGonagall finally turned her back on us to write on the board, I immediately craned my neck back to see Denise.

"What?" I whispered.

Looking slightly taken aback (honestly, I wasn't that rude to her!), Denise simply shoved a roll of parchment into my hand and went back to copying McGonagall's notes from the board. I swear, that girl is so stealthy sometimes she could work for the Ministry of Magic and be in the Magical Law Enforcement Squad.

I quickly turned around and faced forward, and tucked the roll of parchment underneath my desk in my lap, out of McGonagall's view—and just in time, as she had just turned back around and began picking on Penelope Clearwater, asking her to explain some recent policy changes the ministry made with the animagus registry.

Holding my breath as I slowly began to unroll Denise's note, I casually placed the parchment on my desk and slid my transfiguration book over the top corner of the sheet in order to hide the note a little. If there's any class in which you don't want to get caught passing notes, it's McGongall's. She reads them aloud. (We learned that in our first year. It was the first and last time I ever felt sorry for Madeline—she was caught passing a note to Alexis Haley in Ravenclaw about how excited she was to bump into the hunky, hunky Bill Weasley that morning after breakfast, and how she wanted to take a photo of him and keep it under her pillow. Poor Percy had looked even redder than Madeline. Oh, good times.)

_Dear Suzie_, it began. Dear Suzie? God. The Macmillan frivolity and propriety has rubbed off on her. This is all Vince's fault, that well-mannered, good-for-nothing sod.

_Dear Suzie, _

_I know you're probably still mad at me and I understand why, but hear me out. I heard myself telling you all these things that could imply that Lupin fancies you, and my mind immediately went "Suzie's going to think Lupin fancies her, and if she's wrong, she'll be hurt!" And then I thought, "What if Lupin did fancy her (I don't know why you always get so shocked when you find out people like you—you're wonderful, Suzie, and very likeable)—I would be hurt." Why would I be hurt? Maybe you can guess. It's this whole thing with Vince. I miss him and…oh, I'm such a terrible friend, but I'm jealous, I guess. Jealous that I lost my boyfriend and Oliver's falling for you. Jealous at the mere possibility that Professor Lupin could fancy you. So I just reacted, and thought to take you down a peg or two and assure you that there was no way Lupin could like you, and I'm so sorry. I feel terrible about it, and even worse that this is all because of my problems with Vince. I've just been so anxious about hearing from him that I sort of took my frustrations out on you._

_So…I hope you can forgive me. If you can, then we need to immediately move on to the next order of business: why did you and Oliver come walking into class together??? I thought you said you were going to the library! Were you two off snogging or something?_

I bit down on my lower lip to keep from laughing aloud at Denise's last line. I really could not afford to get caught with a note like this. The idea of McGonagall reading …_and Oliver's falling for_ you to the class with Oliver in the classroom made me feel slightly queasy. I quickly turned over the parchment to write back to Denise.

_We're cool!_

Well, obviously we were cool. Denise is clever enough to know that making snogging jokes is a sure-fire way to get back on my good side.

_Let's forget this whole Lupin business. We both know there's less than a one percent chance he fancies me, because I mean, that would require him to be kind of a pervert. Lolita/Humbert Humbert and whatnot, and I just don't think Lupin's the societal outcast type person, you know?_

_Moving on, don't tease me. You know Oliver's not even thinking about snogging anything except the house cup, and maybe his broomstick if he wins this Saturday's tournament._

_Of course I'm inwardly giggling at that comment._

_And Vince will write. He's a no good, pompous toe rag with the IQ of a troll if he doesn't write back to you. Just give it time!_

I folded the note over once and swung my arm backwards when McGonagall wasn't looking. I dropped the note onto Denise's desk and went back to taking the notes McGonagall had left on the board. I heard the sound of paper unfolding behind me, and immediately knew Denise was reading my reply. A few seconds went by, and I heard Denise make a funny noise—something that sounded distinctly like a laugh-turned-cough. I grinned inwardly. She had gotten to the broomstick bit. Sigh. Broomsticks. Oliver. Quidditch tournament this Saturday. Super panicky Oliver. He's so adorable when he's all panicky—I just want to squeeze him and tell him he's wonderful and perfect and that of course he'll win and…

Er—did I just call Oliver Wood wonderful and perfect? Ok, calm down Suzie. Stop acting like you're in love with the damn bloke. He's just a guy. A very sexy, _perfect_ guy. No, no, no. Stop saying that! He's not perfect. No one is. Well, Lupin, perhaps. Oh yes, now _he's_ perfect. I wonder if Oliver can grow up to be like Lupin when he's in his thirties. Somehow I can't see it. Sad, really. I think all guys should aspire to grow up to be just like Lupin, if they know what's good for them. I mean, he's perfect after all. Nice to look at, sweet, intelligent, witty, mysterious-but-not-creepy-like-Snape-mysterious. And they should try to avoid going bald if they possible can, and just get those wisps of grey hair like Lupin's…oh! Or go totally grey like Mr. Macmillan. Oh yum. I haven't thought about in him a while. I miss him.

Aw, I really hope things work out with Vince and Denise! Partly because they're adorable together and I hate seeing Denise all sad over this whole business with Vince. But also because I want them to get married. And as the best friend of his daughter-in-law, Mr. Macmillan will see me constantly and over time he and I will have a torrid love affair that will eventually be made public (probably by Ernie—he just seems like one of those types who awkwardly enter the wrong places at the wrong time and then awkwardly discover bad things) and it would be this great, horrible scandal, and…and…ok, so I just thought that up randomly and haven't been actually plotting this or anything, but still—it's fun to imagine, and judging by the empty seats around me and Denise hovering over me, fantasizing about elaborate sex scandals is a nice way to pass time til the end of class.

"Were you thinking about someone hunky?"

I glanced up at Denise, who was standing over me with her arms crossed over her chest and grinning.

I grinned back as I got up and began packing my things. "Well, maybe not one. A few."

"Oh Suzie."

"Oh Denise."

"So we're alright then?"

I rolled my eyes at her. "Of course we are. I said so in my note, didn't I?" I asked.

Denise smiled. "Yes, you did. But you also made references to Oliver kissing broomsticks this weekend, so it's hard to distinguish what's serious and what's a joke when it comes to you."

I sniggered. There's an inexplicable satisfaction to be had at hearing prudes like Denise echoing my double entendres. "Well, I was serious. We're fine. And I understand where you're coming from…and hell, I'm kind of to blame too. I'm sometimes sensitive about the Lupin subject, I suppose, what with my being his obsessed fan and his knowing that I'm an obsessed fan. It's all very awkward still. Oh! And I almost forgot! I'm mad at Madeline!"

Denise laughed, but cocked an eyebrow at me as we began to head out of class. "Why? Is it because she was talking to Lupin after class?"

I felt my jaw drop. Was I that predictable? My surprise must have shown, because Denise began to laugh even more.

"Suzie, are you serious? I was just kidding!"

I made a face at her. "Well, you should've seen the way they were talking after class! They were just standing there, all close…and Lupin laughed at something she said! It was terrible…I could just feel my blood boil. And I swear, if I find out she said something witty to make him laugh, I might just die."

"Because being witty with Lupin is your job?" Denise asked, still laughing.

I nodded proudly. "Yes ma'am! Well, maybe I'm not always witty. Actually, come to think of it, I'm not witty at all. I think Lupin just makes me feel witty—I'm not quite sure how he does it…but he's got a way of making girls feel all smart and good about themselves." I felt myself sigh. "He's so sexy."

Denise rolled her eyes. "You need to start dating Oliver already, before your hormones completely take over you."

I glared at her in response and stuck my tongue out. "My hormones are in control."

Denise giggled. "Yeah right."

"They are!"

"I swear, if I walk into our dormitory one day and find Professor Lupin gagged and tied to your bed post—let me just say—not at all surprised." Denise replied.

Lupin gagged and tied to my bed post? Huh. I never thought about that. That's such a lovely image…

"Oh Suzie, I wasn't trying to make a suggestion!" Denise exclaimed, hitting me on the arm, pulling me out of my Lupin-esque reverie.

I grinned. "Oh, come on. I would never do that. Gagging and tying up a professor could get you detentions for like, the rest of the term.

"And speaking of which," Denise began cautiously, "detention with the man himself, tonight, right?"

I nodded, smiling ruefully. "After dinner. I wonder what he'll have me do."

Denise shrugged. "Lines, I'm guessing. At least that's what I think people have said he gives."

I grinned. "Think he'll make me write 'I will not fantasize about doing my professors during their classes' a hundred times?"

"But that would require him to acknowledge that he knows about your fetish for…well, him." Denise replied with a laugh.

"Very true. Hmm…well, I'll let you know how it goes tonight." I said as we turned a corner and began walking downstairs to go to lunch. But even as we continued walking and changed subjects to the upcoming Quidditch match that the entire school was buzzing about, I couldn't help but let my mind wander back to Lupin. And Oliver. I was still having trouble wrapping my mind around the idea of Oliver fancying me—I just go so used to thinking nothing would ever happen between us, and now it's suddenly a possibility. Well, not so suddenly, I guess. He's been slowly coming around to me. Incredibly slowly though. I suppose I can live with that. I've liked him for almost two years now, I can wait a little longer, I suppose.

But then there's Lupin. I know I've thought this about this topic to death today, ever since my little fight with Denise today, but I can't help it, I'm obsessed. The possibility of Lupin liking me? That was even more insane than Oliver liking me! I mean, I know the whole point of Denise's earlier comments that led us to fight was the just opposite—that Lupin probably doesn't fancy me despite his always treating me nicely. But then when Denise apologized later she said herself that Lupin could just as well like me. Key word being 'could.'

I know deep down he probably doesn't, he wouldn't. I'm his student and there's the age difference, and there's just the whole matter of him probably not finding someone like me attractive at all! But then maybe he could. I mean, I'm not _that_ bad to look at, am I? And he could maybe be attracted to my personality! But that's a big maybe—an unlikely maybe. But the very fact that it's there at all makes me shiver with anticipation for tonight's detention.

* * *

_A/N: next chapter is on the way (I'm writing as much as I can over the next couple of days…) I can't leave you guys w/ something as inconsequential as this! But this chapter's long enough as it is and we all need to take a short reading/writing break!_


	22. Philbert Deverill

_A/N: I know some of your guys were disappointed about not getting the detention scene in the last chapter, so here it is! But don't get your hopes up—it's not as…Lupin/Suzie goodness as some of you may have hoped. :P Though on the upside, lots of fun things happen in this chapter! Well, they were fun for me, maybe not so much for Suzie._

* * *

Chapter 22: Philbert Deverill

* * *

Heart pounding oh-so-fast.

I was standing outside Professor's Lupin office, poised to knock on the door. And yet I couldn't raise my fist from my side. Detention with the kind, sexy Professor Lupin. I never thought this day would come. I'm quite excited about it. Well, nervous too. And scared. I mean, I love any excuse to be in this man's company, but I'd rather it be under happier circumstances, like, I don't know…having a chat with him about the dark arts and listening to him gush about all the wonderful books out there that I ought to read on the subject. He's all cute and sweet, and best of all he's not looking at me all disappointedly for having a gnat-like attention span in his class.

Still, this may not be so bad…I mean, it's Lupin, how mean can he be? Not very much…though he is good at making you feel like crap when you deserve it. I haven't forgotten the whole swelling-up-Madeline's-tongue-with-toffees-made-by-the-Weasley-twins incident. Man did he make me feel terrible. But this isn't of the same magnitude, is it? Hurting my arch nemesis versus not paying attention in class. And yet I went unpunished in the last incident. Well, technically unpunished. His disappointment was torture enough. A mere detention would be nothing in comparison. Well, provided that his detention is as inconsequential as anyone else's detention. Denise said they would be…she did tell me everyone else said he just gives lines. Would he give me just lines though? _Because you're special and deserve to have a special, out-of-the-ordinary detention with him?_

Oh, I'm so moronic sometimes. Ok. I just need to knock on the door. It's already 7:00.

I swallowed, and slowly raised my fist to knock on the door. Ok. Here goes. Whatever happens, happens. It's…destiny…

I need to stop being so bloody dramatic, don't I?

I tapped lightly on the door and stepped back a little to wait. But I needn't have bothered; he responded quickly.

"Come in."

With slight dread, I twisted the door knob and pushed his office door open. Professor Lupin was standing in front of one of his bookshelves towards the back of his office, putting a book away.

"Ah, Suzie. Good. You're here." He said without looking over his shoulder.

I felt my eyes widen slightly. How did he know it was me? Well, apart from knowing he had scheduled a detention with me for tonight…I still could have easily been someone else coming to visit him. Another student, or a professor perhaps…Ah, Suzie. Get a grip. He's as clairvoyant as Professor Trelawney. He made a lucky guess. He's not stalking you and your whereabouts. You wish.

He turned around and headed over to his desk. It was difficult to read him. He didn't invite me to take a seat across from him as he usually did when I came in to visit, but I suppose I could hardly expect him to observe his normal manners of office hospitality since I was doing a detention and all. And he wasn't smiling at me. Again, probably for the same reason. But he didn't look mad or disappointed either. Just tired and…mellow, I guess.

"Alright," he started up again, now glancing up at me, "let us go ahead and get you started then."

"Er…on what?" I asked uncertainly. I took a couple of steps into his office, uncertain if I was going to work in there or out in his classroom. Snape had always made me do things in his dungeon (that sounds so dirty, doesn't it? I wonder if Snape has ever realized that when he assigns detentions in his dungeons), and McGonagall made me work in her office once. I wasn't sure how Lupin did it.

"On your detention, of course." He said in a slightly stern voice. Oh God. He's taking the disciplinarian tone with me. I hate this.

Before I could stop myself I rolled my eyes. "I know that. I mean, what are you going to have me do?"

His mouth twitched slightly, giving the hint of a smile. Ah, now that's the Lupin we all know and love! "Well," he started slowly, glancing around the room now as if he were searching for something, "I think a couple of hours in the library helping Madam Pince with some of tasks will serve as a lesson—"

"Madam Pince?!"

Oh, bad. You do not interrupt professors, Suzie. Especially when they're trying to discipline you.

"Madan Pince?" I said again in a softer tone, looking at Lupin as pleadingly as I could. "Are you serious?"

Lupin's smile widened. Oh, he was cruel. He was taking pleasure in this! And for some reason I found that to be kind of sexy. No, wait. Focus! He's putting me in a room with Madam Pince for two hours. That is wrong and mean and therefore makes him a terrible person. Ergo, thinking of Lupin as sexy is not allowed anymore!

"I'm completely serious," he said. "Ah, there it is"—he walked across the room to the table that had his grindylow tank and muggle music player thing—a gramophone, I think is what they're called. He picked up his wand, which was lying on top of the tank lid, and headed back to his desk—"I somehow don't see you being at all affected by writing lines over and over for two hours straight in my office…"

"Oh, but I would!" I exclaimed, hurrying over to his desk. "I would so be affected! Please give me lines instead!"

He shook his head, and pointed his wand at me. "So you can chat with me while you write them and try to make me forget that I'm punishing you?"

I grinned. "I wouldn't do that!"

He rolled his eyes. Sigh. He's quite cute when he does that. Ok, really now. This is so not the time to admire Lupin's sexiness. Especially since I just vowed to not think of him as sexy anymore.

"No," he said, moving his wand now to point towards his desk, where he had a mess of books and parchments strewn across it, "I think you would. And I do think you would benefit more from a detention with Madam Pince."

"But we hate each other!" I replied desperately, "if you send me there, I won't come out alive because she'll kill me and feed me to something or other in the Dark Forest!"

Lupin laughed. "Well thank goodness you know how to duel."

"I can't duel her, she's a staff member!" I replied. Oh, unless Lupin is implying that I _can _duel her. That would be fun…

"You have my sympathies then, Suzie." Lupin replied with a smile.

I frowned the biggest puppy-eyed frown I could muster. "Please don't make me go there, Professor Lupin. I'm so sorry I wasn't paying attention in class, I'll never do it again! I mean…I'll never _not_ pay attention again, that's what I meant." I said hurriedly.

Lupin continued to smile. "That's not how it works, Suzie. You think it's simply…mischief managed"—he tapped his wand against his desk—"and then feel sorry. We must think before causing mischief."

A part of me wanted to explain that I wasn't really causing any mischief, but only being negligent in class, but a part of me was too distracted by what I saw on Lupin's desk. There was a sheet of old parchment on his desk, and when he tapped his wand on it, the ink on the parchment disappeared. That's so weird…I never heard him say _evanesco_ to make anything disappear…unless he was just doing silent magic. Or was I just not paying attention again? Because really, that would be very me, wouldn't it?

"Alright," Lupin continued, tapping his wand once more against his desk and this time saying _evanesco_ audibly as everything on his desk magically disappeared, "let's head over to the library then. Madam Pince is expecting you."

I cocked an eyebrow at him as he walked me to the door. "You're going with me? You don't trust that I'll go to the library on my own?"

Lupin held the door open for me and ushered me out. "Of course I trust you. But I have to go to the library too to find a book. Mr. Percy Weasley asks me more questions than I have answers to, and I'm afraid I don't know nearly as much about the ministry's newer regulations on various aspects of magic as I ought to."

I grinned. Lupin hates Percy! Hah! Ok, maybe not, but he obviously doesn't like that he asks so many damn questions all the time. I swear, that kid is so obnoxious. And a bit pugnacious. Today I think he was actually trying to get into a debate with Lupin about experimental breeding.

"Is it about the whole experimental breeding issue he was asking you about today?" I asked.

Lupin smiled wryly. "So you pay attention to him, but not to me?"

I felt myself blush. "Well, it's hard to ignore Percy's voice. It's so whiney"—

Lupin held up a hand to silence me. "I knew I shouldn't have made that remark." He said with a sigh. "You tend to vocalize your opinions about everyone and everything."

I made a face at him. "I do not."

Lupin rolled his eyes at me. "I haven't engaged in a do not/do too argument since I was about twelve, I'm not about to start one now."

I grinned. "Fine. Be the bigger person."

We had reached the entrance to the library, and as Lupin held the door open for me once again, he sighed. "Your being so amused even when you're in detention is slightly disturbing."

"Why?" I asked, suddenly reminded of the Weasley twins. Was I in rank with them in terms of silliness? Disturbing thought indeed.

Lupin shrugged as he motioned me to walk with him. I glanced up and saw that Madam Pince was sitting at her desk, staring down at us through her spectacles like some bloody vulture. Oh, save me.

"Irma, how are you?" Lupin asked genially as we approached her desk. Oh, he asks how _she's_ doing. And I'm tripe or something.

Pince let her glasses slip down her nose as she shifted her gaze from Lupin to me, and back to Lupin. "You're escorting your student to her detention?"

"Well—"

"I wouldn't trust her either." Pince continued, glaring at me.

"Actually, Irma," Lupin replied, "I needed to come down here anyway…I wanted to look at some ministry documents."

Yeah, that's right, Icky Irma. Lupin trusts me!

Icky Irma? God. I _am_ in ranks with the Weasley twins.

"Ah, do you need any help finding them?" Madam Pince said as she stood up and walked around her desk to join us. "Those statutes in particular are sometimes hard to work through—"

Lupin shook his head. "Thank you, Irma. I'll be fine. I know where to look. Besides"—he glanced at me and smiled—"I imagine you have loads for Suzie to help you with."

Evil bastard.

Well…evil, sexy bastard. What? I can't help it! He enjoys punishing me and I find that hot. I don't care if it's kinky! I suddenly feel like running through the halls and screaming things about sexual liberation, but I reckon that'll get me into even deeper trouble than I already am.

Madam Pince's face sunk a little. "Very well. If you need me, Remus, I'll be at my desk."

Dost my eyes deceive me, but is she disappointed because Lupin doesn't need her help and she wants to help him look for statutes and do the whole sexy librarian act? Oh, gross. Horrible mental images that are going to last me the rest of my life!

Lupin smiled and walked away, leaving me in the clutches of Madam Pince. Sigh. Let the detention commence.

* * *

I glanced at my watch. Thirty minutes down, one and a half hours more to go! I leaned back in my chair to give my back a rest. I was doing inventory for Pince, looking over the lists of all the books that were currently checked out, putting a star by the names of students who had books due in the next few days, and triple stars by the names of students who had overdue books—students who would be receiving howlers from Pince.

The work wasn't so bad actually, except for the occasional appearance of Madam Pince. Well, more than occasional. Every five to ten minutes, really. She keeps appearing over my shoulder to check my work, to make sure I wasn't trying to cheat and let my friends get away with stealing her precious library books. Honestly, she's such a weirdo.

But otherwise it's not too bad. I actually get to see who's checking out what books, which is a little interesting. For example, Roger Davies checked out a book titled _Broken Balls_, which made me laugh out loud until I read the remainder of the title in full, _Broken Balls: When Fortunes Turn Foul_. Something for his divination class, I reckon._Charm Your Own Cheese_ is overdue under the name of George Weasley. I saw that Harry Potter had recently checked out _Death Omens: What To Do When You Know The Worst Is Coming_, and that gave me chills, thinking that adorable little cutie pie was paranoid about death. Though I don't blame him, what with the dementors stalking him and all. _Hairy Snout, Human Heart_ was being checked out by Hermione Granger. God, that girl is so annoying, but I did like that book when I read it over the summer. And then, my stomach nearly imploded, or exploded, or something else quite disgusting when I saw the name: Remus Lupin. Right next to a book titled _Hélas, Je me suis Transfiguré mes Pieds_.

Two reasons for all the excitement. Number one. I have in my hands very personal information about him. A book he has checked out. It makes me feel privileged, and like an expert stalker. Number two. I'm not good with languages, but I'm positive that's a French title. Which means the book is written in French. Professor Lupin knows French?!

I paused in my reverie to make sure I wasn't drooling or anything.

He knows French! I don't know why, but that's nearly as sexy as him being academically sadistic with me! I mean, I'm just trying to picture him sitting around, reading French books. It seems so…Mr. Macmillan-like. Rich, elegant, sophisticated. Only Lupin is totally sophisticated as well, but even sexier for it because he's a professor! But now he's like, super-sexy because he speaks French. God. I can totally see him speaking it all…fluently and smoothly, like a Frenchman. Sigh. Professor Lupin wearing a beret. And a black turtleneck…and changing his name to Pierre. Oh, yum.

"Hennessey!"

I fell forward in my seat at the sound of my surname. I glanced up and saw Madam Pince walking towards me.

"I didn't bring you in here to daydream about whichever irresponsible boy on that list you're daydreaming about!"

Oh, she's good.

"You didn't bring me here though," I replied sweetly, putting a star by Percy Weasley's name, whose copy of _Prefects Who Gained Power was due in two days, and trying hard not to laugh at the title. That boy is a power-hungry wanker. "Professor Lupin did. You'll have to take it out with him."_

She glared at me. "How far along are you?"

"I'm almost done. I'm on the last page." I replied.

"Good," she said. "When you're done with that I have another task for you—sorting the books on the shelving cart in order."

"Fine." I replied.

Madam Pince headed back to her desk, which was a few feet away from me, muttering something about never taking one of Lupin's miscreants off his hands ever again, no matter how charming he is.

I sniggered. Pince fancies Lupin! That's…kind of gross! She's like, sixty or something!

"Why are you laughing?!" she snapped, looking over her shoulder. "You will not cause a ruckus in my library! Do you understand?!"

I bit down on my lower lip to keep from laughing again. "Yes. Sorry, ma'am."

Oh, but I wasn't sorry at all! Madam Pince fancies Lupin! Ugh! Poor Lupin! I wonder if he realizes it. I mean, she has to like him, right? Calling him charming…always being nice to him…oh, that's just so sick. She's old enough to be his mum! She should go for someone her own age. And shut up, it's completely different with me. Girls can like older men! Going for younger ones is a bit pervy, in my opinion. Oh wait, Roger Davies doesn't count! He's only a couple of years younger than me, after all, not like, ten. Nevermind. I'm not going to think about age differences anymore because I suppose I'd be considered a hypocrite any way you spin it.

But still. Madam Pince…ew! I mean, age differences aside…that's still so…ick! I mean, she's mean and nutty and is in serious need of a facelift, and Lupin is just…sigh. Sweet, and wonderful and…well, sane. I cannot see those two together. Hopefully Lupin won't either. The idea of having to compete with Madam Pince for Lupin's attention makes me feel kind of nauseous.

I finished the list of checked-out library books, and slowly got up, stretching my arms out overhead and standing on my toes for a nice stretch.

"I'm done!" I declared, probably a bit too loudly.

Madam Pince spun around in her swivel chair and glared at me. "You needn't declare that to the entire library," she said as she got up and snatched the roll of parchment out of my hand, "keep your voice down."

I rolled my eyes in response. "You're welcome." I muttered under my breath.

She stood up, and I watched her walk around her desk and pull out a giant cart full of books from underneath one of the counters, and I suddenly realized it was the cart in which all the returned books fell when they were dropped through the drop-off slot at the front of the circulation desk.

"I already checked these back in and checked off all the borrowers' names. They just need to be put in order by call number on this empty cart here"—she pointed to an empty cart with shelves and wheels that librarians use when they walk around their libraries shelving books—"and I'll shelf them. Do you know how to work with call numbers?"

I rolled my eyes. "I think so. As long as the numbers don't go past 125, because that's all I can count up to."

Madam Pince shoved a book in my hand and hissed at me to get started, and walked off in a huff, muttering something about killing Lupin. I grinned and placed the book she gave me on the empty cart. God, I love irritating her.

As I reached into the cart of returned books to grab a few more books, I heard the sound of footsteps approaching. I glanced up and saw Professor Lupin walking towards me. Well, towards the circulation desk, which I was technically working behind. Only he didn't seem to notice because he was busy reading a book. Honestly, how does he walk and read at the same time? I did that once on my way to class and ended up bumping into a suit of armor and knocking it over. What's worse is that I think I apologized to it too, only to realize a second later that I was talking to an inanimate object. Sigh. Somehow I don't think Lupin has to deal with problems like mine…

When Lupin reached the desk he glanced up from his book, and looked slightly taken aback. "Oh—Suzie! You surprised me."

I rolled my eyes and grinned. "You're surprised to see me? You're the reason I'm here in the first place!"

He cocked an eyebrow at me, looking at me appraisingly. I shrunk back a little.

"Sorry." I said quietly, rolling my eyes again. "I know I'm the reason I'm here. I'm a bad kid. But you assigned me here though, that's what I meant!"

Lupin smiled slightly in response. "I know what you meant."

"Have you been here in the library all this time?" I asked as I glanced down at the copy of _Self Defensive Spellwork _in my hands and determined where in the cart it belonged.

"Yes," Lupin replied, "I had those statutes to look at, and ministry volumes aren't suppose to leave the library, so I've been here doing my reading and note-taking."

Aw, I like the image of Lupin taking notes, like a cute, diligent schoolboy! That's so…him.

"So…do you know where I could find Madam Pince?" he asked after a few moments of silence in which I paused to think about which number was greater, 435 or 543.

I shrugged, placingSonnets of a Sorcerer next to Sites of Historical Sorcery. "No idea. She stormed off only a couple of minutes ago."

If she had any idea her lover boy was standing right there, only inches away from her desk...oh, ick. I need to stop that, otherwise I'm going to gross myself out of liking Lupin. And I can't have that, because let's face it, who knows if Oliver will ever come around? He may as well win the Quidditch cup and decide that his trophy is more attractive than me and forget all about me…

I studied the call number for _Weird Wizarding Dilemmas and Their Solutions, _trying to decide if I had any grounds for hitting on Lupin after I graduated, just in case the whole Oliver thing didn't pan out. I mean, I'm already of age, and won't be his student any longer…so really, what's the problem with that? Well, Madam Pince might get jealous and try to kill me…

"Er…Suzie?"

I glanced up and felt my heart jump slightly. Professor Lupin was still standing there, looking a bit awkward. Did I seriously just get so engrossed in my thoughts that I forgot about him? This is unforgivable, Suzie! Oh wait, except I do this in his class all the time. Hence my reason for being here…

"I actually found a book tucked away in one of the statute books I was reading," he said, showing me the book he had just been reading on his walk to the circulation desk. It was titled _Why I Didn't Die When the Augurey Cried_ and looked no longer than about fifty or so pages. "Anyway," he continued, "I didn't know where it should go…do you have any idea?"

I shrugged as I went back to my task of organizing the cart of books, "No idea. Ask your girlfriend."

I paused for a moment as my words hit me, and I immediately dropped the book I was holding into the cart, and wheeled around to face Lupin.

Oh, now you've really done it, Suzie!

"Ask Madam Pince!" I said quickly, trying to correct myself. Oh, awkward, awkward, awkward!!

"Ask Madam Pince," I said again, and then felt the need to clarify, "I mean, not that she's your girlfriend or anything, I know that. I mean, I don't know…but I'm just guessing. I mean…not that my guess means anything. I don't know anything. At all. Seriously, if you opened up my head, you'd find it completely hollow!"

Lupin simply cocked an eyebrow at me, his mouth twitching into that quasi-smile of his. "Right, ok." He said. "I'll…actually, I need to get going, but I'll leave the book with you—"

"And I'll ask her!" I finished. "No problem"—I grabbed the book from him and placed it on Madam Pince's desk—"no problem." I said again.

"Great. Thank you." Lupin replied. He smiled slightly. Awkwardly, more like it.

"No problem." I said for the third time. Geez. Pick a new word! Oh wait, never mind. No need. He's already walked away. I leaned against the book cart, which happily didn't roll backwards due to the weight of all the books on it already. I let out a deep sigh and glanced at my watch. I still had one more hour of detention to go.

* * *

I buried my head in my arms, which rested on top of the Hufflepuff dining table. I'm hungry, yet my plate of French toast sitting three inches away from me seems too far out of reach.

I let out a loud yawn. Being this tired and sleep-deprived on a Saturday morning is just wrong. And yet it's happened. I didn't get out of detention last night until 9 pm, didn't start my homework until 10, and didn't realize that it was a Friday night and had the entire weekend to study until it was nearly midnight. And it is currently 8 am, and I've been awake for an hour. Awake at 7 am on a Saturday morning is just indecent. I'm talking about charges being brought up in a high court of law or something! But alas, I did it voluntarily. Why? Because today is Saturday, the 16th of April. And what is so important about this day? Well, it's not just any day, my friends. The 16th of April is game day. And not just any game day. It's quidditch day. And not just any quidditch day. It's the quidditch finals! And we all know what that means.

A hyperventilating Oliver Wood dressed in a very cute quidditch uniform doing all sorts of fun, impressive, possibly-construed-as-sexual movements on his broomstick, all in the name of sports! It's a very exciting day.

Except I'm too tired to enjoy it. Unless Oliver himself comes up to me and asks me to give him a good luck kiss or smack on the ass (Hey! One of the Weasley twins asked Denise to do that once—maybe he rubbed off on Oliver!) I don't see myself getting too enthused about this match. Actually, I don't think I'd want to give Oliver a good luck kiss. I haven't eaten anything yet and I think my breath might smell a little in result. Bah.

"I'm sleepy!!" I groaned loudly, still keeping my face buried. I then remembered that Denise wasn't even sitting with me, as she was still downstairs in the dormitory getting ready. I groggily lifted my head up to see who I had heard me.

Cedric was sitting across from me, eating scrambled eggs and grinning at me all perkily. God, I wanted to smack him. Being perky at this hour is just indecent.

"Then go back to bed." Cedric replied, still smiling. "No one made you get up for quidditch."

"Shut up." I grumbled as I reached for my plate and dragged it closer to myself. Where the bloody hell is my fork?

"Why do you even attend the matches, Suzie? You don't even care for quidditch." Cedric continued, seeming completely clueless to the fact that I was about five seconds away from chucking my French toast at him. "I don't understand people who do that. Well, it's mostly girls who do that, I suppose…"

I rolled my eyes at him, and deciding he wasn't worth losing my breakfast over, I dug my fork into my plate and broke off a chunk of toast for myself. "Figure it out."

"The broomstick action?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at me.

I felt my jaw drop. Was he trying to be dirty? The perfect little golden boy, the apple in his parents' eyes, was being pervy??

"I'm telling on you!" I exclaimed, devouring a large forkful of toast.

He chuckled. "Who are you going to tell? Dumbledore?"

I grinned. "Your mum."

He rolled his eyes at me.

"She'll be devastated," I continued, suddenly feeling more awake and animated. "I reckon your parents will pull you out of here and have you home schooled so they can keep an eye on you. And they probably won't let you go out anymore either, though I suppose that'll only aggravate your lack of broomstick action, eh?"

"Suzie!"

I giggled. "What? I meant they won't let you play quidditch! Geez, Cedric. Your mind's completely in the gutter!"

Cedric rolled his eyes at me once more as he reached for his mug of coffee. "I'm trying to decide if you're more annoying when you're groggy and grumpy, or lively and pervy."

I smiled. "That's a very mean thing to say to your own blood."

"I'm so glad that that's hardly true." He replied. "I don't know why my uncle had to go and marry your aunt. Not that there's anything wrong with her. Your whole family is lovely, really…you're just the one black sheep though, aren't you?"

I stuck my tongue out at him. "I can be the black sheep if you want me to. Give me a few years to grow up to be an old, drunken spinster, and I'll be one those relative that crashes every party and ends up standing on the dining table to sing Weird Sisters songs while I flash all the guests."

Cedric sniggered. "The fact that I have no trouble envisioning that bothers me a little."

I made a face at him. "You can see me as an old spinster?"

He smiled, this time genuinely. Well, I think so anyway. "Except that part. I can see you married. Well, as long as the guy is blind. And deaf."

"Aw, what guy is blind and deaf?"

Cedric and I glanced up to find Denise standing over us. We both laughed.

"Suzie's future husband." Cedric replied.

"And your future wife's going to have bleach-blond hair and the brain the size of a snitch, right?" Denise asked as she took a seat next to me, grinning.

Cedric frowned. "No fair. You two are going to gang up on me now."

"No we're not!" Denise and I said together.

"You always do. Forget it. I'm not talking to you guys." Cedric replied, glancing around for company. Katie Bell was walking past our table, no doubt on her way to the Gryffindor table, when Cedric spotted her and called after her.

"Sit with us?" he asked. "Please?"

Katie cocked an eyebrow appraisingly at him. "Oliver's expecting all of us at the table. He wants to make sure we're all well-nourished." She added, rolling her eyes. "Hey Suzie. Hey Denise."

I grinned at her. "Screw Oliver. Sit with us, and the three of us can gang up on Cedric."

Cedric glared at me. "Katie will be on my side if anything. We're quidditch players. You two are…"

"We're what?" Denise asked, smiling pleasantly at Cedric, but looking at him challengingly.

"Yeah, what are they, Ced?" Katie asked as she plopped into the empty seat by Cedric and helped herself to a blueberry muffin.

He fell silent and blushed.

"Aw, you guys made wittle Ceddy Weddy blush!!" I squealed.

He glared at me in response. "I don't know how your family puts up with you, Suzie."

I grinned. "They don't. I'm here nine months in the year, and my sister hasn't had to deal with me since she got married three years ago except at Christmas."

"Lucky." Cedric muttered.

"You have a sister?" Katie asked, slapping Cedric's hand away as they both reached for the same pitcher of milk.

I nodded. "An older sister. She's my only sibling." I looked up at Denise and grinned. "Although Mum's been harassing Dad lately about wanting another child. I told you about the postcard they sent from Austria, didn't I?"

Denise giggled. "I do recall some sort of comment about there being enough sperm left."

Katie spat her milk back into her glass. "Thanks!"

Cedric laughed. "Serves you right for hitting me." He said, leaning away from Katie as she waved another threatening hand at him.

I shook my head. "Mum's insane. I told her she should just let Ellen have kids and she can take care of them."

"Ellen?" Katie asked.

"My sister." I said. "Though I can't see her having any kids. She's not fond of them. Poor Mum. I guess she won't have any grandkids after all."

"Well, you could give her some." Denise said, nudging me in the ribs and grinning.

I shook my head and sighed. "I can't. Cedric said I'm going to be a spinster."

"I did not! I just said your husband ought to be deaf and blind." Cedric said with a grin.

"Whose husband is going to be deaf and blind?"

Cedric, Katie, Denise, and I looked up and saw Oliver standing over us. Oh, this is just fan-bloody-tastic.

"Suzie's!" Katie and Cedric said together.

Oliver cocked an eyebrow at me in that very sexy manner of his, and all I could think to do was to bow my head in shame.

"Right." He said, turning back to Katie as if my non-existent marital dilemmas meant nothing to him. "What the hell are you doing here sitting with Hufflepuffs? Er"—he turned to the rest of us—"no offense."

"Having breakfast." Katie replied.

"Well, the rest of the team is having breakfast together, over at _our_ table." Oliver replied. "Come on."

Katie sighed. "But you'll be there."

Oliver glared at her. "Listen, Bell. This is our last chance for the cup. This is _my_ last chance for the cup, and I'm not going to risk losing it just because you don't feel like hearing any more game strategies! Now move!"

Denise, Cedric and I watched silently as Katie picked up her breakfast. She glared mutinously at Oliver as she shuffled off, muttering something about needing to beat the bludger out of his butt as she left.

Oliver stood there silently for a moment and then glanced down at the rest of us. "See you guys at the game, right?"

"Of course." Cedric answered, and we nodded along with him. "Best of luck, mate. Give those Slytherins hell."

Oliver nodded solemnly. "Thanks."

"We'll keep an eye on those dementors for you." I added with a grin. "Well, more so for Harry, I guess."

At that, a look of panic overtook Oliver. "God. I hope he's got all of that sorted out. He said he has…but I don't know. I can't risk him falling down again, especially when he just got that Firebolt. Bloody hell…"

And with that, Oliver wandered off, looking extremely troubled.

"So…what I said wasn't exactly encouraging, was it?" I asked, glancing from Denise to Cedric.

"If we come out onto the quidditch pitch only to find Oliver's hung himself from his broom, let me just say, I'm not at all surprised." Cedric replied, getting up.

I bit down on my lip, unsure if I should laugh or suggest that Oliver needs to be committed into St. Mungo's Hospital. Hmm. Or suggest _to_ Oliver that he ought to be committed. Though I reckon his threat of hitting me will be suddenly be realized. Ouch. I bet he hits hard, what with his being all strong and burly. Sigh.

Ok, no more fantasizing about guys punishing you!

Maybe I ought to commit myself to St. Mungo's…

* * *

Denise and I walked in silence towards the quidditch pitch. It was a beautiful day, perfect quidditch weather (or at least that's what everyone keeps saying. I personally think quidditch is more fun in the rain, only because it rained during the last Gryffindor match against Ravenclaw, and Oliver looks amazing when he's soaked through. Well, it's true!) I was actually thinking about the last quidditch match, and judging by Denise's silence, I reckon she was too. Vince had been there—he wanted to visit Denise, and cheer on Ravenclaw. I still don't know what to make of their relationship, or if there's anything left of it. I mean, I know he broke up with her at the last Hogsmeade visit, but Denise wrote to him, apologizing for her freak out about the closeness of their relationship. She told him she loved him and she wanted to be with him, and was ready to take their relationship forward. And she wrote it all prettily and eloquently! I was so sure Vince was going to write back to her and take her back. Yet it's been a few days since her letter, and no response. I suddenly hate all Macmillans. Even the dad. I don't care how sexy he is. He probably raised his son to be a good-for-nothing, selfish little—

"It looks like everywhere is packed." Denise said, interrupting my mental bashing of Vince.

I glanced around to the designated area for Hufflepuffs and saw that it was in fact crowded. Were there really that many people in our house? Huh. I glanced around again. Well, we sure as hell weren't going to sit with any of the other houses…

Denise looked around uncertainly. "I don't think there's any space left in the Hufflepuff block!" she said. "Do you think we should sit in one of the visitor/staff blocks?"

I made a face. "I don't know…"

She rolled her eyes at me and grinned. "We'll try not to sit next to Lupin. Or his_girlfriend_."

I sniggered, despite my feeling embarrassed at the memory. Trust Denise to bring up my most painfully awkward school memories. "I don't think she's ever stepped out of the library long enough to know that this school's even got a quidditch pitch."

I followed Denise to the block next to Hufflepuff, which was reserved for visitors and staff members. I already spotted Dumbledore and McGonagall amongst the staff. There was no sign of Lupin. Oh! Snape was in the row behind Big D and McG! Heh. Big D and McG. I could see Dumbledore being cool with his nickname, but old McG giving me a detention for hers.

"Let's try to get a spot near Snape!" I said quietly into Denise's ear as we climbed up the steps.

"Why?" Denise asked, looking over her shoulder at me like I was insane.

I shrugged. "Dunno. It just seems like fun. I think our presence would make him feel awkward."

Denise laughed. "We could, but then wouldn't it be awkward to make commentaries about Oliver in front of him?"

"Oh. True. Ok. Away from all professors then." I said, glancing down the five rows of bleachers for some free spots.

"The only space big enough for two is by Dumbledore though, I think." Denise replied. "He's fine, and non-awkward, and probably too busy watching the match and talking to McGonagall to bother with us."

"Sounds good." I replied, following Denise towards our seats.

As we approached our seats, Dumbledore glanced up at us. I suddenly feel a little awkward. In my seven years at this school, I haven't really exchanged more than a few words with him. I mean, he's so busy and important while I'm…well, not. Denise took a seat next to Dumbledore, and I sat next to her.

"Ah, Suzie. Denise. Hello. How are you?" he asked us pleasantly as we took our seats next to him.

Though I didn't see Denise's expression, I reckon hers was as blank as mine, as we both said "Fine" together in the same surprised tone. He remembered our names!

"Er—how are you?" I asked, feeling slightly stupid at the question. I felt like he could see right through the awkwardness in my attempts to be polite.

"I'm fine, thanks." He replied. He glanced over at the Hufflepuff stands before turning back to us. "Everyone from your house has turned up for this match, I see. They didn't leave you two any space?"

"Nope." Denise replied. "Er…I hope it's alright we're sitting here."

"Of course it is." Dumbledore said with a smile. He then turned his attention to McGonagall, who in turn had her attention elsewhere. "Minerva—"

"Hmm?" she asked, not bothering to turn around to face Dumbledore.

"Really, Minerva. You're quite paranoid."

"The twin Mr. Weasleys just approached Lee when they should be with their teammates! I don't trust those three at all."

Dumbledore let out a small chuckle. "You yourself hired Mr. Jordon to be the commentator. You ought to trust him."

"A decision I regret. I'm going over there right now."

"Are you vacating your spot permanently?" Dumbledore asked.

McGonagall nodded as she stood up. "I'll be sitting with Lee, to make sure he doesn't let those Weasley boys skew his commentaries."

I couldn't help but snigger. "I like Lee. He's a great commentator."

Dumbledore nodded. "I agree."

I suddenly felt very cool and important. The headmaster agreed with me!

A few moments later, the entire audience erupted in cheers, which I took to be a sign that I ought to stand up and cheer with them, since the teams had just flown out onto the pitch. Sure enough, there were specs of green and red floating in midair. I had to lean forward a little to make out Oliver's figure, but after a minute I spotted him moving up to the goal posts. He had a very distinct upper body, even from here. Yu-mmy!

Oh, right. Dumbledore's sitting nearby. Must limit the perving.

The match started, and within seconds—seriously, seconds—Angelina Johnson got a hold of the quaffle and scored ten points to Gryffindor. Wow—she's good.

And a moment later Marcus Flint from Slytherin smashed into her. And of course, Fred Weasley retaliated by chucking his beater's club at Marcus, who started bleeding. Ok. The game has been going on for two minutes—are they serious?"

Madam Hooch blew her whistle and called penalty shots to each team. I leaned forward in my seat as I watched Angelina get ready to take her penalty shot.

"Yes—she did it!" Denise exclaimed, clapping her hands. I glanced at her and grinned. She's so cute—clapping at a quidditch match. This was a place where people screamed and roared and waved their arms around manically, even I knew that!

Next was Flint's turn for a penalty shot. I immediately stood up. Come on, Oliver. Block him! Do that sexy blocking-the-quaffle-with-the-bottom-of-your-broom bit!!

And he did it! I roared with approval with the rest of the crowd. He did his sexy block _and_ he succeeded. I love you, Wood!

I ended up staying seated for most of the match after that, despite how vicious it got, and believe me, it got very vicious. At one point, one of the Slytherin chasers actually made a grab at Katie's head, who ended up cartwheeling into the air. Thank God she managed to stay on her broom, even if she lost the quaffle.

"My word! Those Slytherins play dirty, don't they?"

I glanced at the random man sitting on my other side. "They sure do." I replied. Huh. My guess he's not the father of any of the Slytherins then. Thankfully, because he's quite cute, and really, it would be a shame to be the cute dad of some rotten Slytherin. I mean, mind you, there's Lucius Malfoy, whose son is a Slytherin, but that's different. Lucius is gorgeous. Sexy, if you will. Slytherins are allowed to be sexy, but it's just weird if they're cute. I don't know why—I guess because cuteness implies a certain amount of goodness.

"Is this your first time seeing them play?" I asked as Madam Hooch blew her whistle once more to go yell at one of the Slytherin chasers.

"It is, actually. I'm generally not one for school quidditch, but I came to check out a few of the older players."

"Ah." I replied, but a moment later my mind immediately went to something Oliver had said yesterday when I ran into him in the library. Scouts! There were going to be scouts at this match!

I cleared my throat and started again. "So…are you a scout? From the pros?"

He glanced sideways at me and smiled. It was a very sweet smile too. Sigh. And he didn't even look that old. Probably in his late twenties. "Well," he started, "I'm the manager of Puddlemere United. I actually have another guy who does the initial scouting for me, but he was ill today. Plus I kind of wanted to come here and see some of these players for myself. I've heard quite a lot about some of these people."

"Yeah?" I asked, wondering if one of them was Oliver.

"Oh yeah," he continued, "that Harry Potter. He's something else, isn't he? I heard he got on his house's team in his first year here!"

I felt my heart sink. No wait—don't lose hope yet! He said he's looking for older players, so he has to know about Oliver! Ok. I need to distract his attention from Harry. But how?

"Yeah, Harry's great." I replied. "But you're not considering him, are you? I mean, he's so young! Plus…well, you know, he's so much drama…what with You-Know-Who and his followers after him and whatnot…"

"Hmm…"

"…he would be jeopardizing your team's safety." I finished, looking at him hopefully.

The man looked at me and grinned. "You've got something against Potter?"

I felt myself blush. "No—"

But I was interrupted by Lee Jordon's voice echoing through the crowd, yelling obscenities at the Slytherins.

"Ohh…looks like we're getting some more penalties!" the man next to me had said. "I've never seen such a dirty game before!"

I shifted my attention back to the match and watched as one of the Slytherin chasers got ready to make a penalty shot. Oh!

I glanced sideways at the man. "Oh, watch this. Oliver Wood is an amazing keeper…"

We waited in silence. The chaser made his move, and with the grace of a dancer, Oliver fell forward on his broom to make a spectacular save, which caused the crowd to go wild once again.

"That was brilliant!" the Puddlemere United guy exclaimed. "That's Wood, right? He was one of the people I wanted to check out."

"Yes, that was him." I said, trying to keep my voice from sounding too excited. Yes! He was checking out Oliver! Obviously not in the way that I like to check him out, which makes it even better, of course.

I glanced to my other side to see how Denise was doing, only to find her staring off into space. Or staring into the crowds of students everywhere. It was hard to tell. Was she looking for someone?

"Denise…?"

She quickly turned around to look at me. "Oh—hey."

I frowned at her. "Is everything alright? Who were you looking for?"

She shook her head and turned her attention back to the match. Katie had just scored again. "No one. I just thought I saw—well, no one. It's nothing." She said.

I looked appraisingly at her for a moment, but she didn't react. I opened my mouth to say something more, but I heard the man next to me suddenly gasp.

"Oh!"

Denise stood up quickly. The two beaters from Slytherin had turned in the direction of the goal posts, and had simultaneously whacked their bludgers towards it—directly at Oliver.

The crowed hissed as one hit him right in the stomach, followed by another.

"No!" I heard myself scream as I watched Oliver slump back on his broom, falling a few feet as he clutched his stomach. "THOSE DISGUSTING B—"

But the man next to me seemed to be beside himself on my behalf as well as his own.

"I—NEVER!" He roared, stomping his foot, "COWARDLY LITTLE—"

He continued ranting for several more seconds until Dumbledore leaned over Denise and me to ask the man to please watch his language as he was sitting in the presence of ladies. Oh, got to love that Dumbledore.

The man sat down in a huff, throwing a glare at Dumbledore for not letting him rant to the full extent he had wished. "I can't believe they did that."

I sighed. "Well, it's Slytherin. They know they can't get a single quaffle in so long as Oliver is blocking them, so rather than improving their own game they'd rather just take him down."

"He is quite good, isn't he?" the man said.

"Definitely. He's one of the best, I think." I replied, grinning. "By the way, I'm Suzie."

The man smiled at me. "Philbert Deverill. Can I assume you're a Gryffindor here, Suzie?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "Everyone thinks that when they meet me. I'm no bloody Gryffindor. I'm a Hufflepuff!"

He laughed. "My mistake. What year are you?"

"Oh, I'm a seventh year" I replied.

He smiled shrewdly at me. "Same year as Mr. Wood, eh? Are you one of his friends, trying to talk him up?"

I felt my jaw drop. What an accusation! Even if it was true…

I laughed. "Well…I am sort of friends with him, but I don't mean to talk him up. I mean…I could if you'd like me to because I do think if anyone in this entire school deserves to play in the pros, it's him. I mean, you saw how he's been playing today, haven't you?"

"He's great."

"He's amazing! And he's crazy dedicated to quidditch. And…well," I started hesitantly, trying to decide if Oliver would kill me if he knew I said this particular bit, "frankly, I think he'd marry quidditch if he could."

Philbert chuckled. "That's quite serious."

I smiled nervously. "It is. I only hope Oliver never finds out about this conversation now because I reckon he'd kill me for saying something like that to someone who's as important as you."

He laughed again. "More power to you for not caring who I am."

"So," he started again as Gryffindor got to take another penalty shot, "you said you're in seventh year. Got any career goals?"

I nodded. "I'd like to be a writer, perhaps a reporter, but I don't know how that'll pan out. It's so competitive."

He nodded in understanding. "It is. You ever look into _Which Broomstick_ or _Quidditch Illustrated_? Or the _Quidditch Column_ in_The Daily Prophet_?"

I laughed. "Are you serious?"

He glanced back at the game in time to watch Angelina Johnson score again, and then turned to frown at me. "Why not?"

I shook my head. "I'm horrible at quidditch. Heck, I don't even know anything about quidditch!"

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "You sure fooled me."

"I wouldn't mind working for _The Daily Prophet_, though maybe not doing the quidditch column. I actually applied there."

We both turned back to the game, as Harry Potter seemed to have spotted the snitch; everyone was cheering him on.

"I know some people who work there," Philbert replied. "They really love it there. Oi!"

Oi indeed! Draco Malfoy had caught on to Harry, and had actually grabbed onto the tail of his broom to pull it back! Shame on you! You may have a sexy father, but you, little boy, are a toe rag!!!!

The entire crowd was shouting angrily. Lee Jordon was cursing into the megaphone, but Professor McGonagall herself was shouting too angrily and pointing in Malfoy's direction to even notice.

"This is insane!" I exclaimed. "That little brat!"

Alicia Spinnet was given Gryffindor's penalty, but she missed by several feet.

"I'm so angry I would've missed too!" Philbert declared, falling back into his seat.

I sighed. "Well, the game's not over yet. Slytherin's still way behind. Harry will probably catch the snitch before they get a chance to really catch up."

I glanced over once again at Denise, who seemed to be uncharacteristically quiet, even if it was a quidditch match we were sitting through. Oh, I hope it's not because I've been talking to Philbert for much of this time!

"Denise?" I asked.

She didn't hear me.

I tugged on her sleeve this time. "Denise!"

She turned around abruptly. Her eyes were wide with mingled shock and fear. "He's here!" She squeaked.

I felt my eyes widen as well. "Who's here?"

"Vince!!"

"Where?!"

Denise nudged in the direction of the next set visitor/staff set of bleachers, which was between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. I searched the crowd, and after a few moments, I spotted him. There he was, all tall and sexy with his wavy brown hair.

"God, Denise…this is—"

"What is he doing here?!" she asked so loudly that even Dumbledore glanced at us curiously.

I couldn't help but grin. "Well, obviously to see you!"

"But…we're…not together anymore!" Denise replied worriedly. "What would he have to say to me?"

I rolled my eyes. "Maybe he's here to make amends with you! I mean, there's no way he'd show his face here, knowing you'd be here, without having the intention to see you."

Denise shook her head worriedly as she glanced back to see Vince. "I don't know. I don't—oh God!"

She turned quickly to face me again.

"What?" I asked.

"He saw me! We made eye contact!!"

My eyes widened. Lee Jordon had shouted something about someone scoring, but I didn't quite hear it. "Well? What did he look like? Happy? Startled? Upset?"

Denise shrugged. "I don't know, I turned around too quickly to notice!"

I glanced past Denise to get a look for myself. Only I couldn't spot him now. "Hey, where'd he go?"

Denise wheeled around and joined me in the search. "I don't know! Oh, God! He left! He left because he saw me! He—oh! Sorry, Professor…" she muttered quickly when she realized she was practically leaning over Professor Dumbledore.

He simply smiled in response. "Perhaps you'd like to switch places with me so you can have a better view of the boy you're looking for?"

Denise blushed furiously. "Er…ok. Thank you."

Dumbledore slid over in his seat and Denise crossed over him and was now leaning over the railing trying to spot Vince. I made a move to join her, but in that very moment, Dumbledore stood up very quickly, and blocked me off. Huh. Everyone else got up too. I wheeled around to face the quidditch pitch and immediately saw why. Malfoy was chasing the snitch, and Harry was gaining on him.

"GO! GO! GO!" I heard Philbert shout. "PUSH THAT FIREBOLT FOR ALL IT'S WORTH!!"

A bludger came whizzing in his direction, but Harry flattened himself against his broom and ducked it. Finally leveling himself with Malfoy, he threw himself forward, removing both hands from the broom (I briefly wondered if even Oliver could pull off such a feat). Before I knew it, Harry had pulled out of his dive and soaring up so the crowd could see him better, he waved the golden snitch.

"YES!" I shouted, punching the air. I turned to my left, and realized Denise was no longer next to me, but Dumbledore. Huh. It would be awkward to hug him. I looked further down and saw Denise, who seemed completely oblivious to the cheers of victory around her, and in a moment I saw why—Vince was climbing the steps of the bleachers to meet her.

I froze in my spot; I could feel my heart pounding a million miles a second, totally in sync with the pounding of Denise's heart. I watched Vince extend his hand forward to Denise, who took it and climbed off the bleacher and onto the top stair with Vince. He said something to her—by the movement of his mouth it looked like "Hi."

I bit my lower lip nervously, waiting to see what would happen. Denise's back was to me, so I couldn't lip read what she was saying, but whatever it was made Vince grin broadly as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up a few inches off the ground to give her a kiss.

I grinned, clapping my hands together. They were back together! I turned back around to give them their space. She and I could celebrate later.

I spotted Philbert getting up and grabbing his coat. He glanced up at me and smiled. "Excellent game, wasn't it?" he asked.

I grinned. "Definitely. You're impressed then with our school's quidditch teams?"

"Well, one of them, maybe." He replied with a wink.

I laughed. "Right. I may be a Hufflepuff, but I'm not ashamed to admit that Gryffindor's got an amazing team. And uh…I do think the captain of the team deserves a lot of credit for it, don't you think?"

He smiled in response. "Naturally. Captains put in a lot of time and effort in devising team strategies, figuring out what works and what doesn't. And I can tell Oliver's quite good at it. His team moved like a well-oiled machine out there and I'm sure it's largely due to him."

I grinned excitedly. "So are you going to offer him a place on your team?"

Philbert threw his head back and laughed. "You really think I'm going to let you in on my decision?"

I shrugged. "No harm in asking, right?"

He nodded, patting me on the shoulder. "I admire your moxie. Not enough reporters have it. And for that, I hope you become one."

I felt myself blush. "Thank you."

He smiled once more and then began to head down the steps with everyone else. "A pleasure meeting you, Suzie."

I smiled and waved goodbye to him. Wow! The manager of Puddlemere United thinks I ought to be a reporter! I feel so…flattered! And I have the sudden urge to go brag to Professor Lupin about it. I don't know why—prove to him that I'm smart enough to be thought well of by important people, I guess. Sigh. I'm so insecure.

I glanced around. Denise and Vince were gone, and rightly so. Let the love birds reconnect. Everyone had started to slowly pour out onto the quidditch pitch to congratulate the winners.

With another sigh, I plopped back onto the bleacher seat, which was now empty save for me. I watched Oliver and Harry hug one another as if they were long lost brothers. Well, more Oliver than Harry. He was sobbing uncontrollably into Harry's shoulder. The rest of the team had piled onto them, grinning and cheering.

I watched as their fellow Gryffindors and others in the crowd poured all over them, and finally hoisted the entire team on their shoulders. Harry and Oliver were in the center, looking more gleeful than anyone else. Dumbledore appeared with the enormous Quidditch cup and slowly presented it to Oliver, who was still sobbing.

I smiled ruefully; he had been on the team since his second year, and he had finally done it. He won; his dream had finally been realized, and I suddenly felt a sense of honor and pride for being there to witness it. Even if I couldn't celebrate with him and show him how happy I really was for him, I was content to at least be a part of it.

Even if I was ultimately alone in the middle of the celebration.

* * *

_A/N: All book titles that were seen during the detention seen were taken from the HP Lexicon, which in turn get the book titles from the HP books, naturally._

_And, FYI, don't count on another update as quick as this (or as long as this! Oh, my fingers are dead…), because A. I'm lazy, B. I have to write lots of Spanish things and fill out graduate school applications, and C. I deserve a break, don't I? Yes, I thought so. I'll try not to let a million months go by before the next update though. )_


	23. Sincerely Sergio Navarro

_Very long A/N: So I know I normally take forever with updates, but it feels even longer with this one…I feel like talking about my life a little so you know a little about what distracts me from writing (apart from the fact that writing fanfiction cannot—regrettably—be a full-time occupation). So I checked my last A/N and saw that I mentioned something of Spanish and graduate school applications. I'm wondering now if I ever mentioned anything about law school. Sigh. So the thing is I started the last semester in law school…and as anyone out there who's experienced law school will know…it's a horrible, MISERABLE experience, which only gets worse as the semester progresses if you're not really determined to be a lawyer in the first place. So…eventually I dropped out, and immediately dove into Spanish, because I feel that's my calling. Taking undergraduate classes to bring it up to par, applying to graduate programs, and now I find myself still taking classes (graduate level this time, so yay) while waiting for programs to get back to me. The whole process—from starting law school, the emotional/mental drainage from being in it, dropping out of it (a surprising number of people were disappointed in me) and stressing about getting into a graduate program whose subject you have very little formal training in…it's all very time consuming and stressful, and just sort of sucks the life out of you. Hence the lack of writing. I guess I just want you all to know that I still love writing this story and have no plans to abandon it…which I guess is sort of a plea to all of you to not abandon the story. Please be patient with me, and I promise to make it up to you with really long chapters. ) I'm so pathetic. :P_

Anyways. This chapter has a lot of dialogue…I'm not sure how it got that way…except I suppose I some of the characters just had a lot of things to get out. It was fun. Oh, I'm excited now, thinking about this chapter. Ok! Read on!! Have fun!!! )

**Chapter 23: Sincerely, Sergio Navarro**

""""""""""

"Suzie!"

I sank deeper under the covers, curling into a ball and wincing at the sound of my name. I grumbled what was probably an indistinct "Mmm?"

"I can't believe you're still in bed! It's already 10 o'clock!" Denise said. I felt her walking towards my bed.

"It's Sunday!" I whined, pulling the covers over my head and rolling over onto my stomach. "Must sleep in…"

Denise plopped onto my bed, landing on my feet. Ignoring my groans she continued, "You missed breakfast, but I brought you a muffin. I'm leaving it on my bed so it's out of reach, so you have to get up to get it."

I groaned again in response. I don't care about muffins. I care about sleep!

"It's chocolate chip!" she added.

I stirred a little. Oh, how I hate her. She's always known exactly what buttons to press with me. I slowly turned over onto my back, lifting myself up slightly and letting my covers fall away. I gazed around sleepily and found Denise walking across the room packing some of her books in her bag.

"Going somewhere?" I asked, shifting my glance towards Denise's bed where the happy chocolate chip muffin lay. Ugh. It's too far away…

"To the library," Denise replied, looking thoughtfully at her transfiguration text before dumping it along with the rest of her books. "I have a lot of studying to do. I meant to get some of it done last night, but—"

"Owing to various snogging circumstances that arose yesterday, you never got around to your homework?" I offered. Oh! I leaned forward and reached for my wand, which was lying on my nightstand next to my bed. "Accio muffin!" I said.

Denise rolled her eyes. "You're such a bum."

I stuck my tongue out at her as the muffin fell into my lap. "You're such a slut."

She scowled at me. "Vince and I were just catching up. We didn't…do anything. I already told you that."

I grinned and slowly began to peel away the wrapping on the muffin. "I know. But you two abandoned me at the quidditch match and I didn't see you in the common room until evening. And there's only so many places you can wander to on the school grounds…"

Denise rolled her eyes again. "We just talked! Patched things up and whatnot."

"Mmm hmm."

"Suzie!"

I laughed. "I'm just teasing! Geez, get a grip. Anyway, even if you two did shag or something, it's not like it would've been the first time…"

Denise sighed with resignation and turned back to the task of packing her books, and I returned to my muffin. As I took a bite, I thought back to last night. I had been trying to read in the common room, but was having a hard time concentrating due to all the celebrating. Pretty much everyone in Hufflepuff had been rooting for Gryffindor in the quidditch match, seeing as how Slytherin can stand to be taken down a peg or two, what with their thinking that they're God's gift to wizardkind or something. Anyway, I was ready to head to dormitory to finish my reading when Denise finally appeared, looking completely elated. We spent the rest of the evening sitting on her bed talking about Vince's surprise visit, breaking only once to sneak into the kitchens to get some food. Denise had missed dinner, and I…well, I was just mildly depressed about watching Oliver's quidditch victory and not being able to celebrate with him, so I wanted some comfort food. Is that so bad? Of course not. I'll go for a jog later today to burn off the extra helpings of pie.

So…they had the talk. Well, first Vince apologized profusely for leaving her (he gets extra points for doing it in person rather than through a letter. God, he's so classy.) And then they had the talk. The whole where-is-this-relationship-going talk…which apparently lasted a grand total of five minutes because Vince and Denise are two of a kind. Both happy with how the relationship was going prior to the breakup, with the exception of Denise's concern with the slut factor. Thankfully she didn't mention the whole thing with me accidentally planting the slut factor in Denise's mind in the first place, as I could see Vince resenting me for that (eh, I would too). And thankfully Vince assured her that Denise was not slutty, but if she felt uncomfortable with the level of intimacy in their relationship he would definitely give her some space. And thus went the talk. I'm beginning to think that there's something wrong with them. I mean, what kind of couple gets along _that _well? It's kind of unsettling…

As Denise headed out the door ("Are you sure you can't come to the library with me? I really don't think you need _that _much time to recuperate from your detention with Pince" she said as she left), I climbed out of bed, stuffing the remainder of my muffin in my mouth. First thing's first. I need to go for a jog. I think I can still feel all the pie sloshing around in my stomach right now.

"""""""""""""

Oh, I am so out of shape.

I leaned against the stony wall to catch my breath. I technically haven't even started my jog yet—I just got outside—how sad is that? Ok. Stay focused. Think of all those slices of pie. If I don't exercise now, they'll go to my hips and thighs and suddenly my uniform won't look so cute on me anymore and Professor Lupin will no longer look at me interestedly when I cross my legs in front of him. Ok, so maybe he doesn't look at my legs with _interest_, per say, but I _have _noticed him shift his gaze down to my legs when I cross them, for maybe a millisecond, before glancing back up at me. Which could be a completely normal reflex, to momentarily shift your attention to wherever movement is taking place—I know—but let me have my fantasies! Let me pretend my sexy professor likes my un-sexy lower body! Well, it's not that un-sexy, I guess. Actually, I have to admit, when I got dressed this morning I was quite pleased with how my capris hugged my butt. I almost want to jog around the entire castle with the hopes of running into Lupin so he can see my butt in all its polyester and spandex glory.

I am aware of how weird that sounded. Right. Back to jogging.

I decided to do a few laps around the quidditch pitch. It was, after all, pretty much deserted now that quidditch season was over, and I wouldn't have to be bothered with people watching me run.

Once I reached the pitch, I immediately broke into a jog, starting off at an easy pace. I was determined to make four rounds; that seemed like a respectable goal seeing as how gigantic the pitch actually was. I felt optimistic. It was a nice day—warm and sunny—and there was the occasional gentle breeze that came by now and then to keep my face from getting to gross and sweaty. It was perfect, really. Having some time for myself; having this wide expanse of space for myself…it was just me and the perfect weather, the soft grass and the empty bleachers around me, except the one in the Gryffindor box—there was a boy sitting there all by himself. Wait…I'm not alone! I'm suddenly creeped out by this invasion of privacy, even if the pitch wasn't exactly my private space…

The figure was still a ways away from me, so I couldn't tell who it was. I kept jogging apprehensively, unsure if I should just call it quits (though whoever was sitting there would think I'm a wimp, doing a five minute jog, or they would think I was running from them, which would be true, but I don't want them to know that!) or if I should just keep running, maybe wave or something as I pass by the person if I know them and just let them keep watching me jog. That's kind of…creepy. I don't think I'd even feel comfortable with Lupin watching me jog. It's just weird! Well, unless he liked watching girls run—I don't know, exercise is a turn-on for some people. Nutters in my opinion.

As I drew closer to the Gryffindor section of bleachers, the figure sitting in the front row seats became more distinct. Tall, burly boy…brown hair…incredibly sexy pout. I abruptly came to a stop in front of the bleachers.

"Oliver!" I heard myself wheeze. God. Of all times to run into him…I was a mess. And I completely forgot to call him Ollie! I was so determined to address him as that from now on…

He grinned. "Out for a jog?"

I rolled my eyes, regaining my composure. "No, I was just taking my threstral for a walk! Of course I'm jogging."

"Why?"

I frowned. "I don't know, for the exercise?"

It was his turn to frown. "But you're already thin!"

I didn't know what to say that. He thinks I'm thin?? Aw!! I feel so…noticed! And flattered!

Right. Best not to tell him that.

"Er—so what are you doing here? Pining?" I asked with a grin.

"No." He replied sharply, glaring at me. "I'm just…I wanted some fresh air, that's all. I'm not _pining_…I'm not that obsessed with quidditch, you know."

I snorted. "Yeah, and Filch loves the Weasley twins. Anyway, I never said you were pining for quidditch…"

"Oh—"

"But it's what I was implying." I said. But before Oliver could come up with a clever retort (or hex to throw at me) I added, "Congratulations, by the way. You guys were unbelievable yesterday."

I smiled genuinely this time to show that I wasn't trying to be sarcastic, and he returned it with a very proud look. He sighed. "Thanks. The whole match…the whole experience was just amazing. It was surreal. I still can't believe we won."

And then a look of pure ecstasy overtook his face, like he was—oh how should I put it—like he was having an orgasm or something while he relived the climactic moments of the match.

I couldn't help myself. I vocalized my thoughts to him. He frowned and told me to shut up and move along.

"Oh, Ollie. Don't be so offended." I replied when he threatened to hex me. "It's great that you're so into quidditch. Shows you're dedicated!"

"Yeah, right." He replied, rolling his eyes and hopping off the bleacher to join me on the grass.

"It does!" I insisted, and then remembering the man who had sat next to me at the match I added, "and I think Philbert Deverill would have to agree."

And just as I expected, Oliver froze. Oh, I feel so powerful! I should really exploit this. I began to jog off.

"What are you talking about?" I heard Oliver call after me. I didn't answer at first, figuring he'd come after me, desperate for information. Sure enough, a moment later Oliver was jogging by my side. Hah. I love this. I need to get a job in the quidditch industry so I can have him wrapped around my finger for life…

I glanced sideways and grinned. "Well—"

Ok, jogging and talking not working for me here. I sounded unattractively breathy. I slowed down to a walk.

"Well," I started again as Oliver fell into a walk alongside me, "he was there at the match."

"_What?_"

"Yeah, he sat next to me!" I said cheerfully, feeling my spirits rise. I seriously love this feeling of control over Oliver!

I felt Oliver grab my arm and pull me to a stop. He whirled me around so we faced each other. Well, aren't we being forceful…sigh. Is it at all weird or pathetic that I just enjoyed that?

"Philbert Deverill…sat next to you?" Oliver asked, staring at me wide-eyed.

"Yep!"

"Philbert Deverill…the team manager for Puddlemere United?"

"Yes!"

"He was at the match?"

"Yes!" I repeated again, rolling my eyes. God, he's slow.

"And he…sat next to you?"

"Oh, my God. Yes!" I exclaimed, wrenching myself free from his grip. I started walking again. Oliver may be sexy, but he's not stopping me from burning off at least one of those slices of pie from last night…

Oliver caught up to me again. "Wait—"

I glanced sideways at him, but didn't stop walking. "Just walk with me," I replied, "we can keep talking."

"How do you know it was him though?" he asked.

"He told me so." I replied. I picked up the pace a little. I don't suppose I'll burn anything going at a snail's pace. "He seemed nice."

"Yeah?" Oliver asked anxiously. I glanced at him again and saw that he was wrinkling his brows and pouting. "Did you guys talk much?"

I shrugged. "Some. We talked a little about reporting…I told him that's what I was interested in." I sniggered and added, "He actually suggested quidditch-related writing for me. Like _The Quidditch Column _in _The Daily Prophet._ Ah well, it's not his fault he hasn't got a clue that I know as much about quidditch as Madeline knows about basic measurements." I said, happily recalling the time Professor Snape had scolded her in class for adding a kilogram of fluxweed to a potion instead of a gram.

"He suggested that to you?" Oliver asked, cocking an eyebrow at me (needless to say, it was done sexily) and completely ignoring my Madeline comparison.

"Yeah, I guess because I was talking a lot about quidditch to him, and then told him a minute later that I'm interested in journalism." I replied.

Oliver frowned thoughtfully. "I bet he could've arranged something for you. You know, he's got a brother-in-law—Sergio Navarro, I think—who's high up in the _Daily Prophet_. I think he's editor-in-chief or something. They're really close, those two."

I stared at Oliver in surprise. How the hell does he know these things? And where have I heard the name Sergio Navarro?

"But anyways," Oliver continued, "What did—"

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed when it dawned on me. "Sergio Navarro!!"

Oliver raised an eyebrow at me. "Yeah?"

"He was my interviewer for _The Daily Prophet _job!"

"Wasn't that a few months ago?" Oliver asked, frowning slightly.

Too shocked at remembering Sergio Navarro to bother being flattered that Oliver had actually remembered my interview, I simply nodded. I couldn't believe those two men were connected! I could have sucked up to Philbert! But no, I had to talk up Oliver instead! What's wrong with me? It's not like Oliver needs talking up, he's the quidditch king. I however…well, we know my track record with rejection letters from prospective employers…

"Did you ever hear from them?"

I frowned and shook my head. "Nope." I replied, blushing slightly. The last thing I wanted at the moment was for Oliver to see me as a future-unemployed reject. But that would qualify as an awkward, embarrassing moment, and that's just vintage Suzie, isn't it? I suddenly wanted Oliver to leave me to my jog.

Oliver, however, merely shrugged. "Well, maybe you'll still hear from them."

I shook my head and then bowed it slightly in shame. "I doubt it."

"Well, what else did you and Philbert talk about?" he pressed eagerly. Sigh. He doesn't even notice my gloom. Self-absorbed prat. Oh wait. I wanted him to not get all awkward about me being a reject. Ok, not such a prat then. But there's no denying he's self-absorbed. Or very oblivious at the least.

"Well, we talked about the match a little," I replied, thinking back to yesterday. "I think it's pretty safe to say that he was appalled by Slytherin and impressed with Gryffindor."

Oliver's ears turned pink. Oh, this is too cute.

"Really?" he asked, in a voice that was uncharacteristically an octave higher than his normal tone.

I grinned. "He was impressed with you."

I had never seen Oliver blush so much. This was kind of fun! I tried thinking of more flattering things to say, but I sort of ran out, as Philbert didn't talk too much about Oliver, and I sure as hell wasn't going to tell Oliver that I had been gushing about him. But no worries. Philbert's general sentiments towards Oliver and the Gryffindors seemed enough to take Oliver up to cloud nine. We ended up circling the pitch twice together (at some point during our first round together I had almost walked into a mud puddle in our path but Oliver pulled me out of the way, grabbing me by the waist. Yes, that's right. Not by the arm, by the waist. I've read enough _Teen Witch_ to know what that means!) We pretty much talked about Philbert's newly reformed Puddlemere United and yesterday's quidditch match, which Oliver seemed very keen on reliving. And I mean in its entirety. At one point he was about to summon his broom so he could demonstrate one of the techniques he had taught his chasers especially for the match. Happily I managed to stop him by telling him to keep his broom in his room (although originally it came out as "pants" instead of "room"—oh, like that's a surprise! C'mon, it's me here!—to which he responded by rolling his eyes at me and calling me a perv.)

Not that I was complaining about all the quidditch talk. It actually made me feel rather special. I mean, here I was, circling the pitch with Oliver Wood, talking about quidditch. (well, hearing about it anyway. There's only so much I can contribute.) I mean, I just feel so singled out and…sigh. Special. There, I said it. I know it sounds lame, but there you have it. I feel privileged, like when you go see Professor Lupin in his office about school related things, but end up spending time talking about other things, and you can see that he actually _enjoys_ your company. Also a privilege. Well, it's a privilege with really any professor, in my opinion; I mean, they're all so bloody busy, I can't help but feel special when they don't seem to mind talking to me about things they're not being paid to talk about. But I'm using Professor Lupin in this example because he's sexy and universally loved, which naturally, makes it more of a privilege. Makes sense? Of course.

But yes, spending time with Oliver is a very similar privilege. He too is sexy, and spending any sort of leisure time with him is just a very exciting prospect. God. I'm like a groupie or something.

Oh well. It's fun! And Oliver's cute! And not just sexy cute, I mean adorable cute! Ah. The way he struts and goes on pompously about his winning the cup. Pure cuteness. Now, I also read in Teen Witch that guys don't like to be called adorable. Something about infringing on their manliness. Hmph. Manliness my ass…

"…and when those bludgers hit me, I thought for an instant that it was over for us," Oliver explained dramatically, still talking about the final game, "they knocked the wind right out of me."

I grinned and nodded. I know getting hit by bludgers can really hurt, but he seems to really enjoy reliving the moment. "Yeah, I remember that."

"Course, I managed to recover after a few moments." Oliver continued, puffing his chest out slightly as we walked on. And before I could stop myself, I giggled. He turned sharply at me. "What?" he asked.

I bit down on my lower lip, trying to keep from smiling and forcing an apologetic look. "You're so pompous." I finally said, and immediately fell into laughter again. Great. He's going to think I'm a nutter.

He cocked an eyebrow at me, but I could tell that he was beginning to blush. "Excuse me? I am _not _pompous!"

I rolled my eyes, still laughing. "Yes you are! You are SO pompous. But it's cute."

Even though I was still walking, I could feel my insides freeze over. Did I just call him cute? No, no, no. No! I called his pomp cute. Not him. But still, by extension, that makes him cute. And cute can translate into attractive. I mean, of course I think that of him, but I can't let him know that! Must clarify…

"I mean, adorable." I added, grinning.

He glared at me. Oh wait. I'm doing that whole undermining his masculinity thing. I'm not supposed to do that, am I?

"_Adorable?_" he repeated, spitting out the word as if it were poison.

I rolled my eyes again. "What is it with guys? There's nothing wrong with being adorable—"

"Yes, and there's nothing wrong with guys wearing little knickers with daisies on them, is there?" Oliver replied, cocking an eyebrow at me.

I suddenly had an image of Oliver wearing nothing but daisy-printed underwear, standing proudly on the quidditch pitch whilst clutching his broom. I suppressed a laugh by coughing loudly and awkwardly.

Oliver made a face. "Were you imagining me in daisy knickers or something?"

I grinned. "No…" I replied most unconvincingly.

"Suzie!!" He exclaimed, sounding positively scandalized.

"I know!" I chimed in cheerfully. "The image is going to give me nightmares for a month."

He glared at me again and fell silent. Well, for the most part. He crossed his arms and muttered "adorable" under his breath as we continued walking.

I shook my head. "There's honestly nothing wrong with guys having adorable tendencies. Women like it when guys can be adorable, did you know that? It makes them seem less…oafish. And you have no idea how much women hate oafs." 

He raised his eyebrows skeptically at me. "I don't care. Adorability is for girls. Girls can be ad—cute. We'll say cute instead. I don't like the word adorable…It's just so…I don't know. It's—"

"Not manly enough?" I suggested, grinning at him.

"Yes, exactly. It's just a weird word. Cute suffices. Women can be cute."

I snorted. "That's not a universal truth, I hope you know that."

"What do you mean?"

I rolled my eyes. Why is he always so oblivious? "I just snorted, Oliver. Not all of us are genetically set up to be cute."

Oliver nodded, frowning thoughtfully. "Point well taken."

My mouth widened in utter surprise and disgust. If he really loved me he wasn't supposed to agree with that! Ok, I know his ability to love anything apart from quidditch is kind of nonexistent, but you know what I mean…

He grinned in response to my facial contortions. "No! I mean, you're right that not all girls can be cute. D'you think any guy in the world ever thought McGonagall to be cute?"

"Aw…that's mean!" I frowned. "McGonagall is cool. And she probably looked good when she was young…"

Oliver shook his head. "No, I don't mean she was never attractive. I just mean—look at her personality! She's very rigid and strict. Very tough. But hey, some men like that. I'm sure that—and let it be known that I feel very uncomfortable saying this—but I'm sure that people have fancied her in the past. But cute? I don't think so. She doesn't have that 'cute' personality."

I rolled my eyes. I still don't think that's fair. For all we know, Minerva McGonagall could have been one red hot mama in her day, with cuteness coming out the wazoo.

"Alright. What constitutes as cute then?" I asked. I swear to God, if he says anything that could suggest that Madeline Slutty-Long Legs Johnson (huh—I haven't used her full name in forever! I feel remiss.) is or was cute in any way, shape or form, I might just vomit. I mean, I know she's pretty and all, but she is not cute! Denise is incredibly adorable, he can use her as an example, but not Madeline. Never her. Or. I. Will. Die.

Oliver shrugged. "I don't know. I think when a girl's really carefree and oblivious to her surroundings, it can be cute. You know, when she doesn't care what others think, or when she's not trying to impress people…when they're just…themselves, they can be cute."

I grinned. "So do you think it's cute when girls pick their noses in public?"

Oliver made a face. "I draw the line at bogeys."

I couldn't help but chuckle. Well, nice to know that Oliver's not as shallow as I previously gave him credit for when he dated Madeline. "So, I take it then you generally don't find girls cute?" I asked. "I mean, come on…acting natural? Acting like ourselves? That's the last thing a girl wants to be in public. At least that's what we're raised to think."

He cocked an eyebrow at me. My God, doesn't his forehead ever hurt from all the times he does that? "Even you?"

"Huh?" I asked, slightly taken aback by his question.

"You don't strike me as the kind of person who gives a damn about what others think." Oliver replied, smiling. "I mean the way you talk to professors alone…" he broke off into a chuckle.

I grinned, now curious about what he was thinking of. "What?" I asked.

Oliver shrugged, still laughing. "In all our years of classes together, I think you've either talked back or made crude jokes or just said something that most people would deem inappropriate to every professor in this school at least once."

"Nuh uh." I said automatically, laughing now too. "I haven't been like that with every professor I've had."

"I remember a few years back, when Quirrell started wearing that turban, you asked him the first day of school if he could teach you how to wrap one on your own head."

I grinned. I had forgotten about that. "Well, I was just making conversation…"

"You asked in the middle of class." Oliver replied.

I shrugged and rolled my eyes. "Ok, whatever. So I'm an idiot with my professors…"

"No, not an idiot." Oliver replied, grinning. "I was trying to make a point…you're not afraid of professors, you talk to them like they're your equals…you don't care. It's cute when you have that attitude in class. I think that's why your one of Lupin's favorites…he loves that you treat everyone the same, that you call it like you see it…"

I didn't exactly take in everything Oliver said regarding Lupin's high regard for me, though normally it would be cause for me to hop up and down excitedly and declare it as a momentous day in the life of a Defense Against the Dark Arts groupie like myself…Oliver thought I was cute! I mean, ok, he didn't directly come out and say "Hey Suzie, you're cute" but he called my behavior cute! An aspect of my personality is cute! That can only be good, can't it?

I shrugged, grinning like an idiot. "Well, I like to be a straight shooter." I replied, pointing my index finger forward and my thumb up and then pretended to shoot. Oliver simply raised his eyebrows at me. "It's a gun! You know, those muggle weapons?" I said, doing the shooting motion again. "Muggles do it!"

"How do you know? Did they teach you that in muggle studies?" Oliver asked.

I shook my head. "No, I never took muggle studies. But I live in a muggle neighborhood…grew up around them."

"Ah." Oliver replied, nodding. "So you've met straight-shooting muggles?"

I laughed. "No, but when I was about four, I went to this playground near my house, and this boy came up to me and did the shooting thing. I don't think I understood it at the time because I took great offense and hit him."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "You're really into hitting boys, aren't you?"

I laughed, knowing exactly what he was referring to. "What you are talking about? I only did it that one time…"

Oliver's jaw dropped. "You hit me! Months ago, during the holidays in Diagon Alley!" He replied incredulously. "When we got into that fight…"

"Oh yeah!!" I replied, nodding happily. Ah, good times. I think I still have that ball I chucked at him. I should check my trunk for it. And I think I'm going to name it Ollie…

Oliver shrugged. "I suppose I deserved it. I think I was a bit mean to you that day."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, naturally. I don't hit people who don't deserve it. You think I sat on Gregory Watson's head just because I was bored?"

"Gregory Watson?"

"Oh! The boy who did the shooting thing to me. Gregory Watson. I hit him and then I sat on his head until Mum came and pulled me away. Man, I got such a spanking when we got home…"

And then Oliver did something that scared the shit out of me. He wiggled his eyebrows—I daresay suggestively—at me. "Spankings, eh?"

My jaw dropped. "Oliver!" Oh, my God. He was just pervy with me. How…?

"What? You think you're the only one who's allowed to be crass or something?" Oliver asked with a laugh.

I smiled, feeling myself blush. "No, I just…I didn't think our dear old Ollie was capable of being a perv."

Oliver shrugged. "I've been known to crack a few inappropriate jokes now and then." he replied casually.

"So you're just going to ignore the Ollie thing now?" I asked, grinning.

"Yes, pretty much."

"Oh, Ollie."

"Oh, Suzie."

"Come on! Get mad at me! Threaten to hex me!" I whined, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt without thinking. "Ollie!!!"

He glanced briefly at my hand on his shirt and smiled. "Sorry, I'm not in the mood to get mad."

"But—"

He pulled my hand off of him, but rather than brushing it away, he held onto it. I want to gasp. Oliver and I are holding hands! I mean, sort of. Not in the romantic-moment, let's-stroll-down-the-street-hand-in-hand-and-look-into-each-other's-eyes-dreamily way. But still. Hand holding is hand holding!

"I'm determined to live in this euphoria for as long as I can. I'm not going to let you take me down." Oliver replied.

Sigh. For a split second when he said "euphoria" I actually thought he was referring to the time spent with me. I thought I was going to faint. He's talking about quidditch though, isn't he?

Despite being disappointed at coming second (or not even in the running, possibly) to quidditch, I smiled. "You're very happy about your win, aren't you?"

He smiled that sweet, adorable, slightly-on-the-brink-of-having-an-orgasm smile. "You have no idea. And it wasn't just about winning. I mean, I obviously wanted to win, but the whole thing was just perfect. We won, but it was a hard-earned win, you know? Slytherin played dirty and it was one of the craziest matches we played, but we won in the end."

I nodded. "True."

"And, I mean, you said Philbert Deverill was there, which is incredibly exciting. You have no idea—it's like having the minister of magic coming to watch your game!"

"Wow." I replied, frowning. "I had no idea—"

"And to top it off, my parents were able to come to the match after all." Oliver added with a proud grin. "I didn't think my dad could come, but he came, with Mum, of course. They were thrilled that we won. Hell, my dad was happier about Gryffindor winning than he was when I managed to get all O's on my O.W.L.s."

My eyes widened. His dad came? And he did well on all his O.W.L.s? I'm…shocked. About both. I mean, I knew he was good at potions and stuff, but I didn't know he was actually…smart. And his dad! He came! After he told Oliver he wasn't going to go! Even after he told me he was going to go! Oh…wait. Oliver doesn't know yet that I met his dad, does he? Eh…it was a while ago and totally accidental. I mean, it's not my fault I knocked him over in a bookstore in Hogsmeade. 

"That's great!" I replied, smiling genuinely at him. "I'm glad he got to come! What made him change his mind? I mean, I remember he said he couldn't come—"

Oliver frowned at me. Great, what did I do now? I don't—oh! Shit!

"I mean, I remember…you saying that he couldn't come. You had told me." I added quickly. A little too quickly. He was looking at me suspiciously. Wait a minute, why am I spazzing? I didn't do anything wrong…

"Well," I started again, sighing, "You told me, and your dad told me too…a while back. I sort of ran into him in Hogsmeade."

"You did?" He asked. Oh no. He was doing the brow-wrinkling and the lips-pursing. That can't lead to anything good.

I shrugged. "It was weeks ago. I was in the bookstore and I accidentally ran into him…"

"Bookstore?" Oliver asked. "Jeremiah's bookstore?"

"Yeah." I replied with a nod. "I think he said something about acquiring it for his company…"

He raised his eyebrows at me. "He told you that?"

"Well, I mean…we got to talking…see, I sort of knocked his briefcase open when I ran into him and papers flew everywhere…and—"

"And in between apologizing and helping him pick his stuff up you managed to learn about all of his business?" Oliver cut in, with a definite edge to his tone. I suddenly realized he wasn't holding my hand anymore.

"No! Of course not. But we got to talking because I called him Mr. Wood, because…I mean, I recognized him from the train station, and I had to explain that to him because…well, wouldn't you be weirded out if someone knew your name and you had no idea who they were?"

Oliver rolled his eyes impatiently. "Yeah, I get it. So you guys got to talking. How did you get to the subject of quidditch?"

"Er—well—" I started slowly, trying to stall for time as I wracked my brains trying to remember—"I think I just said that I'd see him at the quidditch match…I mean, since you were so excited about it. And then he said he didn't think he'd be able to come. That was all, really."

Oliver nodded. "Oh, alright."

I sighed. I think I was sweating more from Oliver's interrogation than from my actual exercising. Well, attempts at exercise anyway. Oliver and I were on our fourth round on the quidditch pitch.

"Hang on a second," Oliver said, coming to a stop in front of the bleachers that were reserved for the Ravenclaw house. He frowned at me. "This was during our last Hogsmeade trip that you ran into him?"

"Er—yeah, why?" I asked.

"My dad wrote to me telling me he wouldn't be coming to the match—I remember telling you about that." He replied.

"Uh huh. So?"

"I got that letter before Hogsmeade. You already knew he wouldn't be coming when you saw him."

I felt myself trying to laugh as I shook my head. "What are you—"

"Why'd you ask him about it if you knew he wasn't coming?"

Oh, bloody hell. I'm busted.

I shrugged. "I don't know—Oliver, I just—"

"Felt like meddling?" he offered.

"What? Of course not!" I snapped. "I just thought—"

"Thought you could try to guilt my dad into coming to see his only son play his final match at Hogwarts, did you?"

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" I found myself replying. Oh no. Why did you say that, Suzie??

Oliver's eyes widened to a diameter I never thought possible. "It worked? Ah, so I owe it all to you, don't I? I should be grateful that you can't keep your nose out of other people's business—"

"I wasn't trying to meddle!" I exclaimed. "I just…I don't know! It just slipped out! I just remember you looking so disappointed when you got that letter from your dad, and I thought—"

"I wasn't disappointed!" Oliver snapped. "I didn't care that he wasn't coming!"

My eyes widened this time with disbelieve. "Yes you did! You totally care and you know you were upset that he wasn't coming!"

"Oh!" he replied, laughing humorlessly. "Of course, the all-knowing, clairvoyant Suzie would know how I feel!"

"Oh please." I replied, rolling my eyes. "The owl delivering your dad's letter could probably tell you were upset. And there's nothing wrong with that! And…I don't know…" I said with a desperate shrug, trying to think of what to say, "he should've been there to see you at your match. It was your last one and I'm assuming he knows how much quidditch means to you—"

"Of course he knows, and of course he should've been there!" Oliver replied, now shouting. I backed away from him a few inches. "But it's not your job to make sure that he comes!"

"I wasn't trying to make sure—Oliver, come on. You're making a huge deal out of nothing!"

"This isn't nothing, Suzie! God—"

"You don't have to yell at me!"

"Fine, I'm done yelling!" Oliver shouted, turning on his heel to leave.

"Oliver!" I walked after him. But he quickened his pace, and I had a feeling he might've hexed me if I jogged to catch up with him. I stood there on the pitch for a few moments, vaguely aware of the fact that it had become rather cloudy in the past half hour. In moments, Oliver's figure had disappeared into the distance.

"""""""""""

"I thought it was really sweet when you insisted that they call off the play so you and Harry could have a do-over."

"Well, it was only fair. I mean, dementors on the quidditch pitch? Anyone could've fallen off their broom."

Madeline Super-Sluttty-Super-Bitchy-Super-Trampy-Long-Legs Johnson (she's been promoted as of this morning) giggled as she tried staring deeply and meaningfully into Cedric Diggory's eyes. "Well, he was the only one who did." She replied. "And no one else would have insisted on redoing the play…I just thought that was so nice of you…"

Oh God. I might just vomit. No, really, I think I will. Cedric actually smiled back at her. He's going to take the bait and let this stick insect praise him to the skies. Of course, Cedric, being Cedric, won't let any of it get to his head and he'll be as humble as ever. He'll still probably date her. Ugh. I hate him. And Madeline. And mornings. And this orange juice. I think there's actually more pulp in it than usual. And I also hate Denise for sleeping in this morning and leaving me to sit with Cedric and Madeline. I swear, if they get married, I will not under any circumstances be her bridesmaid, no matter how much Cedric's parents insist on doing it for their sake.

"Morning!"

I turned quickly to see the beautiful, wonderful person whose voice that belonged to. "Denise!!"

I immediately pulled her down into the seat next to me. She cocked an eyebrow at me. "You alright?"

"I just missed you." I replied, smiling sweetly. "Although about thirty seconds ago I was mentally cursing you for not being down here with me."

Denise continued to look at me dubiously, that is, until she glanced up to see that Madeline was sitting across from us with Cedric, batting her eyelashes now as she talked animatedly to him about how good she was at flying lessons during our first year. What a big fat lie. She slid off the end of her broom while ten feet up in the air and had to be taken to the hospital wing.

"Ah." Denise said more quietly, grinning at me. "She's getting the itch again."

I nodded in agreement. "God. They're going to have incredibly attractive children." I replied, lowering my voice, though I had the sneaking suspicion that Cedric had heard me, as his cheeks had suddenly gone pink. I knew it wasn't from Madeline, because she was still talking about some cool looping thing she had done on her broom during first year.

Denise giggled and turned to her breakfast. "So…do you think you're ready for Lupin's exam? We can go over our notes now if you want…we've got about half an hour before we have to get to class."

I shrugged. "If you want."

"Alright." Denise put down her slice of toast and the knife she was using to butter it. She glanced at me, frowning. "You can quiz me…or I can quiz you. Or we can talk about Oliver…"

The mention of Oliver's name had taken me by surprise. I glanced at Denise and smiled. I had told her a few days ago about my wonderful hour spent with Oliver outside on the quidditch pitch and how it had come to a spectacular crash with the subject of his father. We both agreed that he was just rather sensitive about the issue, and would probably come around and apologize for blowing up at me like he did. But it had now been three days since the fight. Three days of seeing him in class, running into him in the halls, and being brushed aside whenever I tried approaching him, or being ignored altogether. It was official. Oliver Wood hated my guts because I was a meddler in family affairs. Eh. I suppose I'd hate him too if he ran into my dad and told him to suck it up and just have another baby with my mum if she wanted one so badly. Oh, who am I kidding? I would be amused if he had done that…

"I'm quite reconciled to all that, Denise." I replied calmly as I pulled out my notes from Lupin's class and rested them next to my breakfast. "It's been a few days…"

"He was a jerk to you." Denise cut in, frowning. "He was overreacting."

"Yeah?" I asked hopefully.

Denise shrugged. "Definitely. I mean, alright…I guess I could understand why he was mad…but there's no reason to get that mad over it. If anything, he should be flattered that you care enough to try interfering…"

"But I wasn't trying to interfere!" I replied, now frowning. "I mean, I don't know…I guess I wasn't thinking at all. I just saw his dad and he was just…such a tosser…and I just had a sudden urge to say something mean to him. Or…well, something to get him to think about Oliver. I mean, you should've seen his face when he got his dad's letter. He was so disappointed…"

"Well…" Denise began slowly, "that's probably why Oliver reacted the way he did. That's how guys are, aren't they?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"His dad's a sensitive issue…though he's never really said anything to you about it, he probably knew you knew about that. And…I don't know, you going out there and being sort of the bigger person, bigger than him, bigger than his dad…and, well, figuratively throwing a punch at his dad…I guess it makes him feel less of a guy. More vulnerable…weak and stuff."

I frowned again. "Weak?"

Denise smiled kindly. "Guys don't like being made to feel weak, even if it's by accident. Actually, I think they resent it more when girls accidentally undermine their masculinity, because it shows that they probably don't even regard the guys as very manly."

I propped my elbows on the table and let my face fall into my hands. "I didn't think about that."

Denise rubbed my back. "It'll be fine. Don't worry, just—oh!"

I glanced up to see what had drawn Denise's attention away from me, and saw that the owls had started to arrive with the mail. I dropped my head back to my hands; I wasn't expecting anything. I suddenly felt annoyed with my parents, especially Mum. She hardly wrote to me anymore and I could use her advice on men! Ah, except she didn't really know about the Oliver thing. Lupin she knew about, and made the occasional lewd professor-student relationship joke in her letters, but she knew absolutely nothing about Oliver. I should have told her in my last letter to her—she really takes pleasure in dishing out advice on boys…

"Oh—Suzie, you got a letter." I heard Denise say between bites of toast.

I pulled myself up again and glanced in front of me. Sure enough, there was a letter addressed to me sitting on my plate of half-eaten eggs. Frowning, I pulled the letter open, wondering briefly if Oliver's dad had written to me, threatening to do horrible things to me and my family if I kept meddling in his family's business or something.

_19 March 1994_

Dear Ms. Hennessey:

After evaluating your application, we at the Daily Prophet are pleased to offer you a full-time reporter position. We invite you to join us as a member of our staff upon your graduation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…

There was more, but I couldn't focus on the words. There were a lot of them…several paragraphs in fact, and it had ended with a _Sincerely, Sergio Navarro. Editor-in-Chief._ I was smiling, and I was trying not to laugh. So I squealed.

Denise, Cedric, Madeline, and a few others in the vicinity jumped. "What happened?" Denise asked quickly.

"Is everything ok?" Cedric asked.

I pressed my lips together, trying to remain calm. Except I couldn't and I didn't really want to. I handed the letter to Denise. "I got it."

"You got what?" asked Cedric.

I was now grinning insanely. Oliver's worst scowl couldn't upset me now. Hell, Lupin's most disappointed look couldn't bring me down. "_Daily Prophet_—I got the job! I'm going to be a reporter!!"

It was Denise's turn to squeal. "Oh, Suzie!! You did it!" she cried, throwing her arms around me in a hug. "You—oh, I knew you could! This is amazing…"

"Thanks—" I choked out, feeling slightly oxygen-deprived as Denise squeezed the life out of me. Over her shoulder I could see Cedric grinning.

"That's great, Suzie! Congratulations. You deserve it." He said earnestly. "You've got to write your parents, they'll be thrilled."

"I know," I said, nodding excitedly. I tore out a blank sheet of parchment from my Defense notes and dove towards my bag for some ink and a quill. "God…I can't believe this! I had an interview with them ages ago and so I figured they didn't want me when they didn't follow up…"

"So…are you going to like, write for them then?"

I glanced up from the letter I had just started writing to my parents, realizing that Madeline had just asked me a question. "Er…"

"No, she's going to report her stories by doing an interpretive dance for them." Cedric replied sarcastically, grinning at Madeline. Denise and I laughed, but Madeline didn't seem to think the joke was funny. Hmm, go figure. I barely noticed as she got up to leave, muttering something about needing to get to Lupin's class a bit early. Normally being the rather jealous type at hearing about Madeline's running off to see Lupin (yes, even about academic things) I found myself smiling as she walked off. I wanted to tell Lupin about this.

"Woah," Cedric declared as he scanned the letter the _Daily Prophet _had sent me, "Did you see the salary they're offering you? How can reporters make that much? I mean, their articles line the bottom of birdcages the day after they're published….no offense or anything."

Rather than taking offense, I sniggered along with him and Denise. Nothing was going to take me out of this euphoria.

"""""""""""""""

Well, maybe class was a little anti-euphoric. We had an exam today, which wasn't too big a deal. I had studied my bum off last night and knew this stuff backwards and forwards, and had ended up flying through the exam. The only thing was that Professor Lupin said we were free to go once we were done. I was done now, but we had another twenty minutes to go and half the class was still there. I could turn in my test now, but then I'd have to leave, and I really didn't want to. I wanted to be the last one left so I'd have the perfect excuse to hang back and share my good news with Professor Lupin. I tapped my quill against my desk a few times and sighed. I would just have to pretend to work for a while. Or just look over my answers…

I flipped the pages to go back to the start of the exam and began to go through each question, making sure I hadn't misread or skipped over anything. Sigh. I just still couldn't believe that I had gotten the job! Me, a reporter! I just love the sound of that. And it's for one of the most prestigious publications in our world! It just felt so surreal…

I saw Denise get up to turn in her exam and leave. Madeline got up and turned in hers two minutes later…

I wonder what kind of articles I'll end up writing. Will I be assigned to only certain sections or will I get to try them all? Maybe I'll get to have my own column, I mean, after a few years of working there. Like Rita Skeeter. Well, not like her, as she's got a horrible writing style, but she does have her own column and it's quite popular as she tends to write about sensational sort of things, or at least give things a sensational twist…

I felt my heart race as I noticed Oliver in the corner of my eye. He had just gotten up to turn in his exam. Determined to not meet his eyes, I focused on my exam sheet. I heard him approach Lupin's desk, saying something quietly to him as he turned in his exam. Lupin said something in response, which was also indistinct. After a moment, I heard Oliver's footsteps move towards the door. It creaked open, and a second later it slammed shut.

Positive now that I was the last remaining student, I swept a quick glance over the last page of my exam and then stood up to turn it in. I walked over to Lupin's desk, smiling as I handed it in. He smiled back and collected my exam, stacking it neatly with the others. As I went back to my seat to get my bag, I glanced around the class to see that I was in fact the only one left. I turned back to Lupin, who was now getting up, putting the exams in his briefcase.

"Er—Professor Lupin? I wanted to talk to you." I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

"Oh!" Lupin frowned and glanced at his things and then at his watch. "Alright." he said slowly, looking slightly hesitant. Or exhausted. Well, both really. For a moment I felt overcome with guilt for wanting to take up his time with something like this. He was obviously busy. And tired. Ah, screw it. I'm happy today and I want him to know.

"Well…" I started slowly, grinning again as I had this morning. I really couldn't control myself. Hell, not even Snape could smack this grin off my face. "I just wanted to tell you that I finally heard from _The Daily Prophet _this morning, and I got the job."

His immediate reaction made me want to die with glee. He smiled. I mean, not just his normal kindly smile. Or his cute smile, or his sexy smile. It was one of those I'm-really-thrilled-for-you type of smiles that you usually only got from people who genuinely liked and/or cared about you.

"Suzie, that's wonderful!" he said, smiling that beautiful smile. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks!" I replied, grinning happily and immediately fell into an explanation about the details of the letter they had sent me.

After a few moments of my excited 200 words-per-minute buzzing, I drew breath and grinned. "I'm very happy."

He smiled amusedly. "I can tell…and that's great. You really deserve this position, Suzie."

"Thanks." I said again, feeling myself blush.

"Come on inside," Lupin said, nudging his head in the direction of his office, "we can celebrate with a couple of butterbeers before your next class."

"Ok!" I replied excitedly, following him into his office. I actually hadn't seen him outside class in several weeks and hadn't really realized how much I missed and enjoyed his company (what with the whole Oliver business and his acting like he liked me as a distraction) until I stepped into his office for the first time in weeks and took a seat across from him. I thanked him when he handed me a butterbeer, smiling again. This time, however—and maybe it was just the change in the lighting from the classroom to his office, or that I was sitting face to face with him and only a couple of feet apart—he looked strikingly different to me. Older and more tired for one thing. I suddenly noticed that he had more grey hair and I began to wonder if it had always been there or if they had just recently sprouted.

"You must be very proud of yourself." Lupin said as he popped the top off his drink. I did the same.

"Well…yeah, I guess I am." I said, breaking into an awkwardly embarrassed smile.

He lifted his bottle up and I followed. "To you."

I grinned and let my bottle clink with his. "Cheers."

We drank for a few moments in silence. I watched as Lupin tilted his head back slightly and lifted the bottle to his mouth—I suddenly noticed just how dark the area around his eyes were. He was tired and undoubtedly a bit sick, yet he was ready celebrate with me, even if it was just for a few minutes. I forced a smile at him as he declared that he was proud and that he knew something would have worked out for me.

It was funny, since the start of the school year the only person I had really wanted to impress was Lupin…make him see I was cool and smart and deserving of his respect. Sure, I had fancied Oliver too, but it had always been a matter of getting him to see me as attractive and nothing more. But Lupin…I wanted his respect and I wanted him to like me, and here he was in front of me, liking me and respecting me. He cared enough about me to want to celebrate my job offer…he was happy for me. I felt like I should have been thrilled. But I wasn't. Of course, I was glad that I could share this with Lupin and I knew that later on I would excitedly run to Denise to tell her about our brief celebration. But deep down I knew that the only thing that could have thrilled me more than this job offer would have been sharing the news with Oliver and seeing him be happy for me.

_A/N: one more chapter, plus the epilogue, which I'll try to post together or at least within a few days of each other!! I feel sad now. (_


	24. Sir Nicholas

_Author's Note: I'm (just about) done!! Here I present to you the (sort of) final installment of Wanton Confessions of a Teenage Witch. I'm sorry, (seriously, VERY, VERY sorry) I took so long to write. Life has been crazy and hard and busy and in all the mess that is my life, I somehow lost the motivation to write for a while. But I've bounced back (I hope…I opened up Word a few days ago and was like "Um. Crap. How do I do this again?"). A very elastic bounce at that. 31 pages for your reading pleasure. Um, I know that's really long, but there was just no good place to split it! Hopefully you'll bear it. Hopefully you'll like it. I think I did. And now I am sad._

* * *

Chapter 24: Sir Nicholas and the Super Ultimate Chocolate Muffin

* * *

I heard the faint sound of Denise's voice. Stirring a little, I sunk deeper under my covers. Ugh. Morning. Bad.

"I can't believe we only have a couple days left before we have to go!" She declared with a sigh. Yeah, yeah. Emotional times. I get it. Let me go back to sleep.

"You know, it wouldn't kill you to start packing yourself, Suzie," she continued. I heard her drop what I was fairly certain was a pile of neatly folded laundry into her trunk. "I mean, you have even more stuff than I do."

This was true. But at the moment I didn't care too much. I had just woken up from a wonderfully inappropriate dream involving myself, professor Lupin, and a…well, little detention, if you will, in his office. On his desk. And the unceremonious shattering of a grindylow tank in a fit of passion. And now I was awake, back to stupid, stinking reality. Ugh. I turned over on my side, realizing my arm that I was resting on had gone numb.

"Suzie, it's 11 bloody o'clock!" came Denise's voice again. I love her and all, but honestly, I could just hex her right now… "Just because we're free now, doesn't mean you can be a bum."

"Yes it does."

"No it doesn't."

"Yes it does."

"No it doesn't."

I sat up quickly and scowled at Denise who was now daintily folding up her clean panties. "My _God_, you're annoying:"

She simply smiled, but did not look up from her work. "Well, it got you up, didn't it?"

I gave her another dirty look before sinking back into bed, except—

"_Levicorpus_!"

I shot up in the air, my butt briefly hitting the ceiling as I screamed.

"Hey!" I tried raising my arms up and pushing away from the ceiling in order to propel myself downwards, but I only went down a few inches, before shooting back up again. "Denise!!"

Giggling, she pointed her wand at me again. "_Liberacorpus_."

I landed in my bed, swearing loudly as my hand hit the headboard. "Thanks." I said, rolling out of bed. "I'm up now, happy?"

"Delirious."

Rubbing my hand in the place I had hit it, I walked over to the bathroom to wash up. Bloody hell, I always have to pee really badly when I've had a dirty dream, which I find to be kind of awkward. What if I'm the same way with sex? How the hell am I supposed to deal with that? _That was amazing, honey. Now get off me, I have to take a piss!_ God, how unromantic. Oh well, I have no guy. Ergo, I have nothing to worry about. Sigh.

As I did my business in the loo, I couldn't help but think about Oliver. (Yes, I know, it's an odd time to think about boys, but hi, I have to pee after I've been turned on! What else do you expect from me?) He was probably up right now, probably hanging out in the Gryffindor common room, or in his dorm room packing his own things. Or maybe he was out on the quidditch pitch, pining for his stupid sport. I briefly wondered if he was thinking of me, how we had sort of become friends in this past year, how I liked him, how he might have liked me. But then the whole idea of it made me shudder. He probably hated me too much to be thinking of me in any positive light, if at all. Understandably, I guess. Butting into his family affairs and talking to his dad, whom I had never met before, in order to guilt him into going to Oliver's last match…maybe a bit uncalled for and inappropriate. But honestly, he doesn't have to hate me for it. I meant well!

"Denise…" I moaned as I came out of the bathroom, rubbing my forehead, "I feel so hung over."

She laughed as she began packing away her old textbooks. "From what? I know we celebrated last night after exams, but I thought you said you only had a butterbeer."

I shook my head, plopping down next to Denise and handing her _Advanced Charms_. "Caffeine hangover. I think I had about ten cup of coffee between the night before the NEWTS and the morning we took the bloody tests."

"Oh geez." She said, rolling her eyes as she studied her Charms book fondly.

"Hey, can you die from a caffeine overdose?" I asked.

"Dunno. Are you a ghost?"

I rolled my eyes. "I bet Lupin would know."

"If you're a ghost?" Denise asked, laughing.

"No, about caffeine overdoses!"

Denise rolled her eyes again. "Suzie, dying from a caffeine overdose isn't exactly the result of dark magic. It's sort of self-inflicted."

"I know that! I just meant that Lupin's really smart, and he could easily be a drink expert…you know, one of those wine connoisseurs."

"There's no caffeine in wine. And I can't see Lupin being one of those snooty sorts."

I glared at her. "Why do you always have to crush my dreams?"

Denise laughed. "I'm sorry, dear. I'm just trying t picture the look on Lupin's face if you were to randomly go up to him and ask him if you could die from having too much caffeine in your systerm. You know, I don't even think he drinks coffee."

I nodded. "You're right, actually. Now that I think of it, he said once he doesn't drink coffee. Just tea."

"How do you know?"

I sighed. "He told me once—"

"Let me guess. On a late night, clandestine rendez-vous?" Denise cut in, sniggering.

I grinned and stuck my tongue out at her. "No. As a matter of fact, I remember him saying it once in class. Remember a few weeks ago when were supposed to have that quiz and since none of us were prepared for it we tried distracting him—"

"By asking him all those personal questions! Oh yeah, I forgot about that!" Denise laughed. "I do believe you started it, asking him where he grew up."

"Blackpool." I said with a sigh. "Well, it didn't work too well, did it? We asked about his upbringing, favorite drinks, favorite books, and he had us back on track to take the quiz in five minutes."

"He's good." Denise replied with a nod. And then with a reminiscent smile she added, "I think we were only ever able to pull off that sort of stuff with Flitwick. He always got so distracted. Oh, and Sprout! Gosh, I'm really going to miss her."

"I know." I said, smiling ruefully. "Best head of house, if you ask me. I'm so glad we had her."

"Me too." Denise said. "God. Can you imagine what it would have been like to have Snape as the head of your house?"

I grinned. "I bet it would have been fun."

Denise rolled her eyes at me. "He probably would have kicked you out of his house and asked the sorting hat to resort you."

I laughed. "Shut up. And he would have kept you?"

Cocking an eyebrow at me, she replied, "Why wouldn't he? I don't think I have any characteristic traits of a Slytherin or anything, but I've never irritated Snape in my life. He'd have no reason to kick me out of his house." And with a note of finality, Denise nodded solemnly and stuck her tongue out at me.

Thirty minutes later, with packing completely forgotten, Denise and I sat on the floor leaning against my bed, talking about school, alternating with talking about teachers, classmates, and post-graduation plans. It was rather startling, realizing how much time had flown by since we had started at Hogwarts seven years ago with little to no magical knowledge ("little to no knowledge on men either!" Denise added. "I'm still deficient in that area." I replied sadly.) and just how much had changed in those seven years. We were adults now, starting adult lives. Denise was heading off to work at Gringotts almost immediately after graduation, and I was ready to start at _The Daily Prophet_. I was leaving Hogwarts alone, but Denise now had Vince. We were just…grown up! It's all very spooky, and kind of sad. It's been a fun seven years of being silly and immature…our lives consisted of school and friends and good times. And now we were leaving it all behind to start our own new beginnings.

"Is it silly that I kind of want to keep in touch with our professors?" Denise asked me as she leaned back against her bed, crossing her legs. "It's just…well, you know, having them all these years…I think I'll really miss them."

I smiled. "I know what you mean. I almost teared up yesterday when I said my goodbyes to Sprout and McGonagall."

"Aww…"

I stuck my tongue out at her. "I wanted to tell them about my job offer…you know, keep them in the loop. Sprout hugged me, said she was proud…told me to keep in touch with her when I become a famous, successful writer." I added with a laugh. "She's sweet."

Denise sniggered. "Please tell me McGonagall hugged you too."

I grinned and shook my head. "Like hell she did. Are you kidding me? That would've been too creepy. No, McGonagall actually looked really relieved when I told her I got the job. I think she was actually worried I'd end up homeless or something after graduation."

"I'm sure." Denise replied, rolling her eyes. "Oh—did I tell you? Vince told me he knows a guy at Gringotts who's subleasing his flat at the start of the summer! He actually suggested that I take it because of it location…really close to Gringotts."

I cocked an eyebrow at her. "But does distance matter? You can apparate."

Denise shrugged. "Well, he said I should try to find something nearby in case I don't feel like apparating, or can't apparate for whatever reason…"

"Ah…clever." I nodded.

"That's what my parents said too when I told them he suggested it. I think they're in love with him now." Denise replied, rolling her eyes. "Since he shows concern for my safety. The mark of a proper husband, in my parents' eyes."

I grinned. "Oooh….am I to hear wedding bells soon?"

Denise rolled her eyes again. "Not you too. My mum's already starting to drop not-so-subtle hints about that in her letters. The last thing I want to do right now though is scare Vince away. We're quite happy where we are right now."

I smiled. "I know."

There was a moment of silence where we just stared at each other, grinning knowingly about…well, I'm not sure. About the happiness that is Vince and Denise's relationship. "So…did you figure out your living arrangements yet?" Denise asked abruptly, getting onto all fours to begin cleaning under her bed.

Shrugging and joining Denise by her side, I replied "I'll probably just live with my parents. I'm not going to lie…I'm not really keen on living alone right now."

"Well, I'm betting your parents are looking forward to having you back home for more than just summer holidays."

"That they are."

"Hey!" Denise shouted, her voice coming out slightly muffled.

I glanced over at Denise, whose head had disappeared underneath her bed in search of any lost or forgotten items that had ended up under there over the years. "What is it?"

She didn't answer at first, but a moment later her head reappeared from underneath her bed, and along with it she brought a box of half-eaten chocolates. Er—not chocolates. Toffees. Unusually large toffees…

I gasped. "Are those—"

"Yes! I think so!" Denise squealed, staring down at the box. They were individually wrapped in shiny pink foil and had little hearts on them. They were the toffees Denise and I had specially bought from Fred and George to give to Madeline as a prank several months back.

"How did they end up under your bed?" I asked, picking up a toffee to examine it.

Denise shrugged. "Madeline must have shoved them under there. Maybe she was on to us."

I glanced skeptically at her. "Doubtful. Well, unless Oliver told her." I sighed. "God. I can't believe we gave her toffees to enlarge her tongue. Do you remember that?"

"Sadly, yes. Not one of our brightest moments." Denise replied.

I nodded in agreement, and slowly got up to throw away the box. "Very true. Remember when Lupin took us aside to tell us off about it, and then didn't even punish us? I never felt so guilty in my life."

"I know, me too." Denise replied. "Lupin certainly has a way of making a person feel bad if they deserve it."

"Yeah." I said as I tossed the box of candies in the rubbish bin by the door. "One of his many talents. God. I'm going to miss him."

When I turned around to rejoin Denise, I saw that she was grinning at me. "I know you will."

I grinned as well. "Not just because he's sexy, you know."

"Mmm hmm."

"Really! He has…other good qualities apart from his sexiness!"

"Such as?"

"Well," I started as I took a seat next to Denise again, "he's incredibly smart, sweet, a great teacher, and he comes off as a very…brave, courageous sort of person. I mean, the way he manages to keep his head up even when others look down on him for dressing kind of shabby…or when Snape tries to belittle him…"

Denise nodded, still grinning. "Are you tallying off the reasons you'll miss him or the reasons he's sexy?"

I made a face at her. "Courage isn't sexy! It's just a good quality!"

"Uh huh. He was a Gryffindor in his day, wasn't he?" Denise asked.

"Yeah. So? Gryffindors value courage…" I replied, feeling utterly bemused now.

"You have a thing for Gryffindors!" Denise declared.

Um…what?

"What are you talking about?" I asked, feeling automatically repulsed. Um…not that I have anything against Gryffindors or anything, but why should I have a thing for only them? That's ridiculous. I personally like my house and am proud of it, thank you very much. "Just because Lupin was a Gryffindor—"

"…and Oliver…"

"Oh…"

"And that one bloke who graduated a couple years ago…what was his name?"

"Colin Darcy." I said with a sigh. Well, anyone would've been in love with him! That dark, wavy hair…oh, and that jaw…sigh.

"And remember in our first year?" Denise started up again with a giggle. "When we first met? Our first night here, we sat next to each other in the Great Hall after we both got sorted into Hufflepuff…you had said you were kind of hoping to be in Gryffindor because you thought Nearly Headless Nick was kind of hot with his head on…Gryffindor again!"

I meant to show some sort of indignation at Denise's recollection, but instead I fell into laughter with her. "Denise, how—seriously—_how_ have you been friends with me all these years?"

Denise shook her head, still laughing. "No idea. I really have no idea. But now I don't know how I'm going to do without you."

Our laughter died down almost immediately, and we were left sitting there, staring at one another, smiling ruefully. After a few moments I decided to break the silence. "Well, I'm not sure." I finally replied, putting an arm around Denise. "And frankly, I'm not sure how I'll do without you either. I say we just avoid the matter altogether and just keep seeing each other as much as we can after we leave this place."

Denise nodded. "Well, of course! That's a given. But…I just mean…well, it's not going to be the same, is it? Waking up to each other every morning…"

"We're not a lesbian couple, Denise." I interjected, grinning.

"…having all our meals together…" she continued, glaring at me.

"We may as well have been connected at the hip or something, I know." I said, still smiling. "I know…that's all done now, isn't it? It's going to be incredibly weird."

Denise nodded slowly. "Very weird." She looked up at me, and I saw she was scrunching up her eyes a little, and she was frowning. "Unbearably weird."

Oh, no…don't say that…don't look at me like that! Her frowns were contagious…I could already feel my lower lip quivering…control, Suzie! C'mon…just…stay…controlled. You'll see each other again! Just—

"I'm going to miss you!!" I cried suddenly, bawling out a little louder than I had anticipated.

And before I knew it, Denise and I were locked in a tight embrace, and I felt her own tears fall against the back of my neck. I suddenly felt like I could never let go of her. I didn't want to leave her. I didn't want to leave home.

* * *

It was now five o'clock in the evening. Denise was back in the dormitory taking care of the last of her packing. I just left her, realizing I had an extra copy of my potions book from fifth year. I had borrowed it from Snape when I had lost my own copy (well, I should say "lost" – I had accidentally transfigured it into a tea cozy and couldn't change it back, and at the time was too embarrassed to go to McGonagall for help, or to admit to Snape that I sucked at transfiguration.) And so I was currently heading to Snape's office to return it before meeting up with Denise again for dinner in the Great Hall. Probably best to get away from her for a few minutes. We had spent a fair amount of time upstairs reminiscing and laughing and crying over this whole new-chapter-in-our-lives business, and we each still had a lot of things to get done before we left Hogwarts for good—such as returning borrowed textbooks!

I reached the dungeons and stood by the door for a few moments before raising my hand to knock on it. This would be my last time harassing Professor Snape. I don't know how to feel about this.

"Enter." Came Snape's slow (is it just me, or is it particularly seductively slow today?), indifferent voice from behind the door, almost like it was some sort of automated answering service.

I slowly pushed the door open and entered the dungeon. Snape was at the opposite end of the room at his desk, pouring over some paperwork. He glanced up briefly at me and then returned his gaze back down to his desk. "Yes?" he asked.

I took a few hesitant steps towards him. "Hi Professor Snape." I started, pausing for a moment to grin. It was like a reflex around him. Snape hates happiness. Therefore, grinning is a necessary part of every interaction with him. "Um…I was cleaning up, going through my things today, you know, since I'm graduating and all. Anyway, I—"

"Kindly get to you point, Hennessey." He cut in brusquely, still focusing on his paperwork. What the hell was he doing? Surely he didn't have any grading to do? Oh wait—younger students—today was their last day of class, so he had their exams to prepare. Uh oh. Exam-writing. He probably wasn't in a great mood then…putting all his cunning and energy into figuring out how to best screw over his students by means of writing difficult exam questions.

"Well," I continued, "I realized I had an extra copy of our potions book, from fifth year. I borrowed it from you then when I trans—er—lost my copy. I guess I forgot to return it"—I took a few more steps towards him and slowly placed the book on the edge of his desk, casually wondering if he was going to chuck it at me for being so irresponsible—"Er…sorry about taking so long. I just forgot that I had it." I added with a small laugh.

I saw his gaze travel to the book, and a moment later up to me. "Do you know what Madam Pince does to students who fail to return her library books after their due dates?" he asked me.

I cocked my eyebrow at him. "Er…" I had this image of myself being chained to a chair while Madam Pince transfigured herself into a vulture and then proceeded to attack me. I voiced this thought to Snape. Hmm. Bad idea.

"Silence!" he snapped when I began to explain that Pince would use her beak to peck at my head. "Five points from Hufflepuff for disrespecting staff members. And another five points for being irritable and brainless."

I felt my jaw drop. "But sir! I'm no longer a student! I'm done!"

"A pity then that seven years at this school has failed to instill any amount of sense in that head of yours. You are done here when you board the Hogwarts Express for the last time."

"Oh." I stated dumbly. Well, I didn't know that! Geez.

I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say next. Snape must have thought I was going to leave, as he had returned to his work, only to glance up expectantly at me a few moments later when he realized I hadn't moved from my spot.

When he didn't say anything, I couldn't help but smile at him. This would be our last fight! Or rather, his last time telling me off! My last time listening to him insult me! It was kind of bittersweet...

Well, bittersweet for me only, I suppose. Snape was now looking at me as if I were rather creepy. Understandable, now that I think about it. I was smiling at him. I suddenly felt the need to explain myself. "Sorry," I said quickly, grinning more broadly, "but it's just that these seven years of potions with you have gone by really fast. I feel like I've learned so much. Though—I suppose it didn't do much good because I won't really need potions after all with my career"—and suddenly I realized that Snape had no idea what my career was—"Oh, I'm going to be working for _The Daily Prophet_!" I added proudly. "I'm going to be a reporter. I'm pretty excited—it was my first choice of places to work, really…but yeah. Not really any need for potions, is there? Oh well. I suppose—"

"Hennessey!" Snape cut in angrily, dropping his quill on his desk and looking up at me—his beady eyes now tiny, thin slits. "I for the life of me cannot even begin to fathom up reasons as to why you'd think I'd actually care about anything that you suppose, or why I'd want to endure hearing you reminisce about your empty educational experiences. Understandable as it may be that you're feeling sentimental about all of this, if you don't leave my office right now your last days at Hogwarts may just be your last days, period."

"Aw, but—"

"OUT!"

"Bye! I'll miss you, Professor Snape!" I shouted as I hurried towards the door. I'm really going to miss his death threats.

Laughing as I left the dungeon and checked my watch, I decided to head over to the Great Hall a little early to wait for Denise. Is it at all weird that thinking back on all my unpleasant encounters with Snape makes me smile? I mean, I can't help it! All these years, he's just been so incredibly unpleasant and hateful. So much unnecessary animosity towards me. Towards students in general. I have to say though, I was half-expecting my farewell to him to be slightly…I dunno. Less hostile? Mmm, foolish hope, I know. Oh well. I can't say I'm disappointed with how we've left things. I suppose I would've been creeped out of if Snape had been nice to me…

As I rounded the corner, I saw a familiar brown-haired girl coming down the staircase several feet ahead. I grinned. "Katie!"

As she came to the foot of the stairs, Katie Bell stopped to glance up in my direction, and immediately smiled and waved. "Suzie, hey!!"

I quickened my pace to catch up to her. "Where have you been?" I asked when I met her at the bottom of the stairs. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!"

"I know," she replied as we both continued to walk in the direction of the Great Hall together. "I feel like these last few weeks have been sort of a blur. Haven't seen much of anyone lately."

I nodded. "You had those O.W.L.'s, didn't you?"

"And you had N.E.W.T.'s, right?" Katie asked.

"Yep. Just had them the other day."

"How'd they go?"

I shook my head and sighed. "Brutal."

Katie laughed. "Same went for my O.W.L.'s…I think I got all P's."

I grinned. "I highly doubt that. Though I do know the feeling. I actually seriously considered dropping out of Hogwarts to live a muggle life after I took my O.W.L.'s, I was so sure I had failed them all."

She cocked an eyebrow at me. "Really?"

"Well, for like a day." I replied, still grinning. "Don't worry about the exams. They're done with."

Katie smiled and nodded, and then a moment later she gasped. "And you're done with!"

I glanced over at her. "I am? Has Sirius Black marked me too now?"

Katie rolled her eyes at me. "You know what I mean! You're graduating! I just realized that! Talking about exams reminded me that I was talking about the N.E.W.T.'s with Oliver the other day and I remembered how he was graduating, and I forgot you guys were in the same year, but when we were talking he mentioned that you guys got into a fight or something, and then I thought to myself, 'Oh, Suzie's going to be graduating too!' and anyway, all of that just hit me." She finished with a laugh. "So…yeah. Congratulations!"

I forced myself to laugh, though I felt my stomach jolt. "Thanks….um…Oliver mentioned we got into a fight?"

Katie shrugged. "Yeah. But like it's hard to get into a fight with him. He's such a drama queen sometimes. Anyway…God. I can't believe you're graduating and leaving in a couple of days! It's crazy…"

As much as I liked Katie, and really ought to have listened to what she was saying as it was probably about me and my graduating therefore probably saying nice, complimentary, congratulatory things, and it's only polite to listen to those things. But my mind had automatically shifted to Oliver. He had told her that we had gotten into a fight! Is that a good or bad thing? I mean, it could mean that he cares (or cared) enough about me to have been hurt enough by our fight to actually want to talk to someone about it. Or it could just mean that he hates me and wanted to rant about it. Oh God. I'm turning into one of those freaky girls who parses everything a guy says or does. But really, is that my fault? If the stupid idiot would just talk to me a bit more, I'd have more to work off of, and less of a need to parse! Honestly, men are the worst communicators ever.

Oh, unless…maybe I should talk to him? We fought several days ago. He's had more than enough time to cool down and…well, be less mad. Maybe if I tried apologizing again he would be more receptive this time around. Hmm…it's something to consider. I shall consult Denise later. Right. Back to Katie now.

"…anyway, I really wish we got to know each other earlier on." Katie said, smiling sadly at me.

Oh, I'm a horrible person for not listening to a thing she said before that. But I get distracted so easily! Is it my fault I'm lovesick??

"I know," I agreed, forcing a smile as we reached the Great Hall. I hate this. I feel fake even though I'm not. I really do wish I got to know Katie better! It's just that in this very moment I can't stop thinking about my boy problems. "I'm glad we got acquainted though."

"Definitely." Katie agreed. "And I'm sure we'll see each other again."

"Oh, absolutely." I said, smiling. "And hey, if you're around this summer, we can meet up in London if you want—hang out in Diagon Alley."

"Sounds good." replied Katie. "We'll keep in touch."

And with a final smile and an exchange of "see you around"s, we each headed to our own tables for dinner.

* * *

I let out a yawn, and I felt my shoulder twitch involuntarily. I was uncharacteristically awake very early today. 6:00 to be exact. Denise would be so proud.

Glancing around my room, I stopped my gaze on Denise's bed, which was in the opposite corner as mine. She was such a tidy sleeper. On her side, resting her head against her hands, which were pressed together as if in prayer. I could tell from the shape she made under her blanket that her legs were straightened out. Honestly, how does she not move during all the hours she's asleep? Half the time I wake up I have at least one limb hanging off the edge of my bed.

Sighing, I turned my attention back to my current project. I had woken up half an hour ago to go to the bathroom, and upon returning to bed I realized I was now wide awake (I'm seriously starting to wonder if others experience such things or if I'm the only one who is urinarily eccentric. It's probably just me. Urinarily isn't even a word.) And so I began to look for things to do. I had nothing to read because I already returned all of my library books, and I sure as hell wasn't going to reread textbooks. Most of my packing was done—the only things still out were a few basic items to get me through the rest of today and tomorrow. And then I had spotted my camera sitting on my nightstand. I had spent a good part of yesterday evening taking pictures with friends around the castle—I feel incredibly cheesy and silly admitting this, but yes, it was sort of a last desperate attempt to preserve as many memories as I could of this place before leaving it for good. Anyway, I ended up using all my film, and what with the lack of things to do in Hogwarts at 6:00 in the morning, I decided to just develop the photos with a potion kit that my parents had gotten me for Christmas.

I sat there for a few moments, staring at the tray of inky blue liquid with a glossy sheet the size of a postcard floating in it face down. I was developing a photo I had taken of the quidditch pitch—and a pretty good one, I think. Er—I hope. It looked good through the lens anyway. Good angle, good distance, and perfect lighting. I smiled slightly at the thought of showing the picture to Oliver. I would show it to him and he'd just look at the picture and then glance at me awkwardly, wondering why the hell I was sharing a picture of the quidditch pitch with him when a) he already knew what it looked like and b) he hated me.

Ok, I don't know that for sure. I had talked to Denise last night over dinner about talking to Oliver and she agreed with me that I had nothing to lose by approaching him. Anyway, we were all leaving tomorrow, and who knows when the next time I'll see him is, if at all? So I was determined to talk to him, apologize at the very least. I saw him during dinner at the Gryffindor table, sitting in between the Weasley twins, but then I chickened out. I wasn't ready to talk about personal things with Oliver in front of the Weasley twins. I think the idea of being a real person with a certain amount of seriousness and actual non-funny moments around Fred and George makes me feel awkward, and I couldn't help but wonder if they ever felt the same way. But then…it's too early in the morning to philosophize about the twins. I haven't even had breakfast yet.

So the fact of the matter is I didn't talk to Oliver. I had gone back to my dinner with plans to catch him after I was done, at which point he was already gone. Missed my chance.

Yawning, I grabbed the pair of tongs from the nightstand and slowly picked up the photo from the tray, dangling it a few inches up so as to let the remaining potion dribble freely into the tray. With my free hand I reached for my wand and quietly muttered a hot air charm to dry off the picture.

I turned the now-dry photo over and immediately smiled. It was perfect. I had taken it from the owlry as it was the closest I could get to an aerial view without getting on a broom to hover directly over the pitch. (Um, yes, of course I briefly fantasized about Oliver taking me up on his broom to take an overhead photo. I would slip a little in the middle of the picture-taking process, and he would grab a hold of me to keep me from falling, and then there would have been some inappropriate touching. I mean, geez, that goes without saying!) Feeling quite proud of my improving abilities in photography, I gently placed the photo of the quidditch pitch on top of the stack of other photos I had finished this morning. There were a few of just random parts of the castle – a semi-abandoned great hall post-dinner, a staircase in the middle of shifting, the lake, Hagrid's hut from the outside (in all my years here, I've _never _been inside. I've always been a little curious about how such a big guy lives in a tiny house, and what he might keep in there.)

After I prepared the next photo for developing, I sat back with my stack of completed pictures, shuffling through them. Naturally, I had several of Denise. Another with Cedric. One with Denise and me on either side of Cedric, clutching his arms and pretending to swoon over him. I grinned. If that boy ever goes into modeling, he should add this to his portfolio. I couldn't help but grin more broadly when I came to the next picture. It was of the one and only, stunningly brilliant, oh-so-sexy Professor Lupin.

And no, I did not sneak up on him and secretly take the photo while hiding in a giant decorative vase in his office! I'm not _that _creepy. No, my dear friends, I have news for you. This photo was taken with consent.

Granted, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick are also in the picture, as the three of them had run into me while I was taking a picture of George waving a shriveled up plant over Denise's head while puckering his lips, claiming that in some remote countries it was used in place of mistletoe during the Spring months to mark the beginning of mating season. (At which point we realized three professors had joined us because McGonagall scolded George and took five points from Gryffindor for "making up rubbish to make advances on women.") But still. I have a Lupin keepsake. A photo of him, standing there in his light green robes (and might I add they look beautiful on him? Green really is his color.) smiling all—sigh—beautifully. And now I will always remember him in all his sexiness. Plus—I could finally show Mum what Lupin looked like. I giggled out loud at the thought of sharing this with her. She would probably try to frame it and hide it under my pillow or something as a joke. Or in all seriousness…I'm not sure. My mum is so weird sometimes. Huh. Now I know where I get it. I should as her if she has any weird peeing tendencies…

It was now 9 o'clock and I was done with my photos, fully dressed, and hungry enough to eat several hippogriffs and still have room for ice cream. But no one was awake yet. I didn't want to go down to breakfast alone. I glanced over at Denise, who lay in bed in the exact same position she was in a few hours ago, breathing softly, looking incredibly serene...

I couldn't. It would be like, attacking a unicorn. Or a bunny. Just plain wrong.

But then she's woken me countless times all these years. I'm not going to lie, I'm more deserving of a wakeup attack, what with my not being as elegant of a sleeper as Denise…but still…

Screw this.

Grinning, I charged towards Denise's bed. "UUUUP!!" I shouted, leaping up and landing on her legs.

"Argh!—"

Denise shot up, seated, terror-struck. "Suzie!! What—"

"Breakfast time!!" I chanted cheerily, grinning at as Denise continued to look at me like I was deranged.

She frowned and rubbed her eyes. "What time is it?"

"Nine."

"A.M.?"

"No, p.m. But they're serving breakfast now at night, and dinner in the mornings. Things sure have changed around here since we graduated." I declared solemnly.

I heard a groan coming from another corner of the room. I glanced up and saw that I had woken up Madeline with all my noise. She sat up against her headboard, stretching her arms out overhead and yawning extravagantly. "It is morning already? I was having such a nice dream."

Fighting the urge to say something pervy, I rolled my eyes and turned back to Denise, who had slumped back down into bed, hugging her pillow. "Denise! Get up!"

"Idonwanna."

My jaw dropped. "Denise, you hypocrite! Seven years you've been yanking me out of bed at inappropriate hours of daylight, it's your turn!"

No response.

"Denise!" I tapped her on the shoulder. "I'm hungry! I've been up for hours!"

"Whenju giddup?" I heard her muffled question from under the covers she had yanked over her head.

"5:30." I declared proudly.

There was a moment of silence, in which I knew Denise was experiencing a shock numbed only by her sleepiness. Finally she sighed, "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks! I woke up to pee, and after I went I couldn't go back to sleep."

"Fascinating."

"Yes, quite. Now get up! We need to have our penultimate breakfast together downstairs!" I said, bouncing impatiently on her bed, hitting Denise's calves.

Despite my weight on her legs, Denise managed to turn over to lie on her back. "I'll join you in a bit." She said tiredly as she sat up. "I have to wash up and get dressed. Save me a seat."

I opened my mouth to argue, but then closed it, recalling all the times Denise had let me sleep in when I was too lazy and tired to get up myself. All the times she had been nice enough to bring a little breakfast to me if I had slept through breakfast altogether.

"Alright. I'll save you a seat." I replied.

I headed downstairs immediately, determined to get a good pick of the breakfast foods today. There was a good chance that there was plenty out there, since seventh years were all sleeping in due to being finished with school, and everyone else was too wrapped up in coffee and studying for the last of their exams to bother with food.

This was all very exciting. I never—seriously, _never_—get the first pick of muffins. Once during my fourth year, I had spotted a chocolate muffin with what I'm sure to this day were chocolate chips, therefore making it the super ultimate chocolate muffin. But then I had gotten to the table too late. Madeline had swooped in on it. And of course, adding insult to injury, she had to eat only half of it, casting the rest of it away as she declared disgustedly that it was too fattening and heavy. I smiled sadly, recalling how mad I had been that morning. Huh. Now that I think of it, I don't recall ever being too annoyed by Madeline's presence before then. See? That's how important the super ultimate chocolate muffins are to me! And so I am determined to find one this morning. Nothing can come in the way between my muffins and me—

In the middle of my ardent mental soliloquy about muffins, I walked right into a wall and fell backwards. Ok, so I might have a couple of barriers to get past.

I reached my hands back, planting them on the floor to support myself in getting up, only to glance up and see that someone had extended their hand out to help me up. Er…did I just—

"I'm sorry. Wasn't watching where I was going…"

I gulped (probably audibly) as I let my gaze travel up to see who the hand belonged to. Of course, I already knew, because I recognized the voice.

"Oliver!" I squeaked in a very adolescent voice that was reminiscent to the one I had when I first decided Oliver Wood was a very attractive specimen about two years ago. "You're not a wall."

Oh. Did I just say that out loud? Oh, Suzie. You have _got _to stop being stupid in public. You are an adult now.

He squinted at me. "Sorry?"

"Er…nothing. Hi. How are you?" I asked, forcing a smile at him.

"I'm alright. You?"

"Fantastic."

He raised and eyebrow at me. "You sure? You're still sitting on the floor."

I glanced down at myself. Yep. Still sitting on the floor. Which explained why Oliver looked particularly tall today. "Ah…right." I made to get up—

"Here, let me"—Oliver reached his hand out to me again. I took it and he pulled me up with what seemed like incredible ease. Sigh. So burly. So sexy. So…wait. I wronged him with the whole butting-into-his-business thing. He's mad at me still. Must stop thinking about him sexually for about two minutes in order to apologize properly.

We were standing face to face now, only a few inches apart. He was still holding my hand. And it was oddly tense and uncomfortable. Crap. He was going to twist my arm right out of my socket, wasn't he?

"Listen"—we both started at once.

"Go ahead—"

"No, you go ahead—"

We both laughed. I held my hands up to stop him from saying anymore, only vaguely aware that in the process of doing so I had let go of Oliver's hand. "I just wanted to apologize." I said quickly, before he could get another word in. "With the whole thing with your dad, I didn't mean to butt in, or offend you—"

"Well, you—"

I shook my head, determined to say it all. "But I managed to do both. It wasn't my place to do that, and I'm really sorry."

"No, it's—"

"I mean, I just can't stop myself sometimes, you know? I don't even realize when I'm doing it. I just get worked up so easily and things come pouring out."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Yeah, no kidding. But—"

I made a face at him and continued. "No, listen. When I saw your dad back in Hogsmeade several weeks ago, all I could think about was your quidditch match and how you said he wasn't coming, and how disappointed you looked—"

"Look, when I—"

I nodded brusquely, putting my hand up to stop him again, "I know, I know…you said you weren't, but to me it looked like it, ok? In my mind you were upset about it and"—I sighed and shrugged, smiling ruefully at him—"I don't know. I didn't think you deserved to be disappointed like that, and I wanted to fix it for you."

"Yeah. Right, but—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know—I shouldn't have. It wasn't any of my business…and I'm sorry. I just want you to know I only had good intentions, that's all. If I knew how mad you would've gotten over it, I would have kept out, honestly. So…yeah." I finished, nodding my head lamely as I ended my speech. "I'm sorry…about everything. I should learn to keep my yap shut."

In the moment that followed, I glanced up at him expectantly and swallowed, probably audibly. But he didn't say anything at first. He just stood there, staring at me. Well, squinting, rather. Um…was he even listening to a thing I was saying?

"Er…Oliver?"

His mouth twitched suddenly. "You shouldn't."

I frowned. "Shouldn't what?"

"Learn to keep your yap shut. You needn't." He paused for a moment and then added, "You'd never be able to do it anyway."

I was about to laugh, but then I realized he wasn't even smiling—just staring at me like a deranged sort of person does right before they pounce on the victim they're about to kill.

And then without warning, he took a step towards me. Instinctively, I jumped back. What the hell! I was only kidding about the killing stuff!!

Suddenly Oliver looked confused. "What are you doing?"

I could feel my eyes widen. "What? What are _you_ doing?" Something told me there was an unnecessary amount of panic in my voice. Surely he wasn't actually going to murder me the day before we left Hogwarts!

Oliver rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "I was going to _kiss_ you, Suzie! Bloody hell."

"_What?!_"

He jumped back several inches, waving his hands in front of himself defensively. "Ok! I'm sorry!! You don't want me to, that's fine!"

My jaw dropped. What the hell—no! I DO want you to! Yes, kiss me! Please! I was just confused! I still am! I should explain this all to him instead of having a monologue inside my head!

"No, no! I do!" I said quickly, hopping on my toes. Oh God. Do _not_ be so eager, Suzie! Breathe. Be calm, and continue: "No, I was just confused about it…in that I wasn't sure why."

_In that I wasn't sure why_? Oh, bloody well put, Suzie!

He broke into a smile and then did the most boyish thing I had ever seen him do. He reached his hand up to his head and scruffed up his own hair, letting his fingers comb over the back of his head as he looked down. I firmly pressed my lips together. Was he really going to tell me something I actually wanted to hear?

"Sorry. I'm not the most romantic guy," he started with a quiet laugh, "I'm not good about leading into…the moment. Well, clearly, since I just tried kissing you and we're having a discussion about it now." He laughed again. "But…I don't know. Your apology was completely unnecessary. I should be thanking you if anything, for being the blabbermouth that you are."

I frowned and then nodded. "Um. You're welcome."

He was looking at me now. "Maybe my dad came because he talked to you, or maybe he decided to come on his own, I'll never know because I don't think I'll ever ask. But you cared enough to—well"—he laughed again—"and you were brave enough to…talk to a stranger about me…"

I couldn't help but smile. "Your dad looks a lot more intimidating than he actually is."

"Only through your eyes." Oliver replied with a sort of sad smile. But before I could react, he added, "and I don't just mean him."

I gulped, wondering who else I had blabbed to about him that could have possibly gotten me into trouble. "What do you mean?"

Oliver was now grinning broadly, as if trying to contain his excitement. "I got on Puddlemere United."

My jaw dropped as I gasped. "Oliver! You…you got it?"

"Yep." He said with a proud nod. "On the reserve team, which is fine because that's normal for rookies, but all the same—I'm on the team!"

"That was your first choice of teams too, wasn't it?" I asked excitedly.

"Yeah, it was."

I felt an oddly overwhelming happiness for him. He did it! Or he's doing it, rather. The whole professional quidditch thing. He will forever be known as Oliver Wood: Obsessed Quidditch Freak, Esq.

Except one thing. "Er…this is really great Oliver, but…er…what has it got to do with—"

"Philbert Deverill."

It took a moment, but the name almost instantly clicked in my head. Manager of Puddlemere United. Sat next to me at the quidditch final. We talked. I talked about Oliver. And now…

Ooooh.

I felt myself go pink. I glanced warily at Oliver. "He told you—"

"Everything you said about me." Oliver finished.

My eyes widened a little. "Well, I didn't say _that_ much, honest!"

He rolled his eyes at me. "You told him I wanted to marry quidditch."

"Heh. Right. Well…I wanted him to know you were devoted to the game!"

Oliver threw his head back a little and laughed. "I know. And…I want to thank you for saying that…and any other crazy things you've said about me. If it weren't for you—"

I shook my head. "No way. You did not get onto the team just because of me."

He smiled. "You helped. You were…well, loyal to me. I know, that sounds a bit ridiculous, but—"

"It's not." I replied with a grin. "I suppose I am loyal to you. I mean—Hufflepuffs always come first as a group! But as far as individual quidditch players go, I've got your back. Er—well, you know…something to that effect. Sorry, I'm not really good with quidditch-talk. Course, you already know that don't you?"

Oliver laughed. "Would you mind shutting up for a few seconds? I want to try the kissing thing again and I can't very well do that when you're rambling on and on."

I stopped abruptly and shut my mouth.

He took a step towards me. "That is, if you don't mind."

I grinned. "Not at all."

He took another step and then took my hands in his own.

I glanced up quickly at him. "Er—wait. Just to um…clarify. Is this a thank you kiss, or an I-like-you kiss?"

"Can it be both?"

"Um. Sure."

He leaned in closer to me, closing his eyes. I did the same, letting my face lean in slightly to meet his. Ah! I was going to kiss Oliver Wood! Finally! The moment had arrived! He is my guy now! My guy. God. That sounds so surreal. Almost as surreal as this kiss.

His lips were as wonderful as I had always hoped it would be.

Seriously, I always held the firm belief that men with nice full lips like Oliver's had to be good kissers. And they were. Oh, they were. His mouth caressed mine with all the finesse that only seems imaginable in the world of fiction. Without thinking, I let my hands travel over his chest and around the back of his neck. His hands made their way around my back, and slowly they traveled down to right over my hips. And then he pulled me closer. Or he thrust his pelvis against me. I'm really not sure at this point if it was a push or a pull. It might have been both. But it happened and it was wonderful and just really unbelievable because I was snogging Oliver Wood in a very carnal sort of way in the middle of Hogwarts…

I let out a laugh, and Oliver's tongue brushed against the fronts of my teeth. Woah, that felt awkward.

Taking a deep breath to compensate for lost air, Oliver pulled away from me, looking half-confused, half-repulsed. "What—"

I laughed only harder. Oh, Suzie. Why, why, why?? Of all times, really!

"I'm sorry!" I giggled, pulling away from him slightly. "It's just that…we're…well, doing this. I honestly never thought it would happen." I added quickly when he continued to look awkward and confused.

"Well, believe it, Ms. Suzie, because—"

I sniggered again.

"What?"

"Did you just call me 'Ms. Suzie'? Honestly, what are you, American?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes. "Shut up. You're ruining this."

"I know."

"Anyway, 'Ms.' is a professional sort of title, isn't it?" He said as I leaned in towards him again, trying to get back into snogging.

I shrugged. "I suppose. No marital status. Easier to deal with at work."

"Which you have now, don't you?" he asked, smiling. "I overheard Cedric telling Percy about it the other day. _The Daily Prophet_! Congratulations, by the way."

Grinning, I rested my hands against his chest again in order to subtly hint that I wanted to kiss again. "Thank you. My interview with them must have gone better than I thought."

"The one you had in Hogsmeade way back?"

"Yeah. You remember I had that?" I asked, pulling back again.

He smiled. "Yeah. We ran into each other that day. I remember…" he trailed off and kissed me.

"You remember what?" I asked, smiling as he pulled away.

He did his boyish glancing-away-while-smiling-bashfully thing again. "I remember…what you were wearing that day."

I gasped. "You do?"

"Yes."

"But that's so…mushy!"

"I know."

"And…not Oliver-like."

"I know."

"Maybe Ollie-like." I muttered under my breath.

He glared at me.

I grinned. "So what was I wearing?"

"That maroon business suit." He said, and I realized he was blushing slightly. "You were wearing a blazer and a little skirt. I remember I sort of"—he took a moment to cough and glance at a suit of armor nearby—"sort of…er…began fancying you around that time."

"Really?" I asked eagerly. Probably a little too eagerly. "So…you like your women _professional_?" God. That sounded so dirty.

He rolled his eyes and leaned forward to kiss me again.

"Librarians?"

"Mmm." He murmured, getting my cheek as I had begun to talk again.

"Teachers?" I continued.

Instead of replying he kissed me on the mouth this time. Hmph. Probably to shut me up. Wait. Why am I complaining? This is all very nice, except—

"Ahem."

Oliver and I immediately pulled away from each other. A moment's glance made me realize that none other than Professor Lupin was standing at the foot of the staircase behind us, arms crossed over his chest, and looking surprisingly more amused than awkward.

"Professor!" Oliver had jumped back a couple feet.

Lupin simply looked at him and then at me and muttered "Déjà vu." before hurrying past us towards the Great Hall.

Once out of earshot, Oliver glanced confusedly at me. "What was—"

"Never mind." I replied with a grin, thinking a few months back to a situation involving myself and Roger Davies and a one slightly awkward Professor Lupin. "Let's go to breakfast."

* * *

It was the morning of our departure, and things couldn't be more wonderful. I had graduated with respectable marks. I was going to start at a job I actually wanted. I had a boyfriend of 24 hours so far who was just…sigh. And it was all even more wonderful because my best friend seemed equally happy for similar reasons. The only really truly sucky part about all of this was that I felt like I was leaving home forever.

Of course, I loved my parents, and I was excited to see them and hell, even live with them properly again, but the idea of not having Denise around all the time was scary. The idea of having to reacquaint myself with my muggle neighbors again was a little weird. Having to put thought into my wardrobe on a daily basis seemed excruciating. Making time to see Oliver between my expected shifts at the _Daily Prophet_ and his quidditch practice sessions was…well, actually pretty exciting! I mean, a bit frustrating when we sat down to talk last night and realized we were going to be busy grownups doing busy, grownup things. But exciting in the sense that there is now an Oliver to be frustrated with! Sigh. With Oliver. Never thought I'd get to use a phrase like that. And you know, 24 hours later it still hasn't worn out its new wonderfulness!

Glancing at my watch as I hopped onto a staircase that was just about to begin moving, I realized I was later than I had promised Denise. The glory I once had in waking up before her at the crack of dawn was shortly lived and now over. She had gotten up before me this morning around 8 and tried dragging me out of bed for breakfast. I think I mumbled something about meeting her "in a bit." It was now 9:15.

Hey, I couldn't help it! I'm not as good as Denise is with functioning on little sleep. We had been up half the night talking about our post-graduation plans. In terms of guys, and of course in terms of work. But mostly in terms of guys. I know that makes us sound like a pair of horny little adolescents, but it's not our fault—I mean, this is the first time Denise and I have had boyfriends together! Well, there was the time I had Roger Davies, but he lasted like a day. Ok, I've only had Oliver for a day now too, but it's totally different! Oliver has been much anticipated as the boyfriend, and infinitely sexier and more wonderful. So…um…there.

I took a few careful steps down as the staircase continued to shift, jumping off quickly when it stopped at the landing on the ground floor. I quickened my pace, determined to wolf down my breakfast so I had enough time to talk to Denise _and_ Oliver (still not tired of saying that!) and to see if we could all sit together on the train ride out.

As I entered the Great Hall, it took me a moment that something had changed. Everything looked the same as I glanced around; I realized it was just buzzing more. People were talking excitedly. Huh. Well, figures, I guess. Last day and whatnot.

I headed over to the Hufflepuff table, but halfway there, I saw Denise getting up from her spot. I waved.

"Suzie! There you are!"

I grinned. "Yeah! Sorry I took forever—er"—she was running up to me—"What's wrong?"

"Lupin." She breathed when she stopped in front of me. "He—he's resigning. He's gone."

* * *

I jogged down the corridor leading out of the Great Hall. It was all something of a blur. Werewolves. Wolfsbane potion. Sirius Black. Escaped. Hurt. Dangerous. Lupin. Leaving.

He couldn't go! He couldn't be one of…_those_. He just couldn't…and even if he was…

….and Sirius Black had come back only to escape again! Harry Potter had been there…was Lupin somehow involved? My head was spinning…

I turned the corner and hurried down another corridor. Towards the end of it was a door on the right. I burst through it, finding a dark, empty classroom as expected. Walking past the empty chairs that would remain abandoned for the next few months, I hurried up a small staircase at the front of the room, wondering what I would find behind that door. A tired, somber Lupin packing up his briefcase for the last time? He would look sick and pale, just like—

Oh, how did I never know? Once a month, he'd get sick! It was almost like clockwork! I felt my stomach turn and flip and do all sorts of nauseating things as I climbed the last step and let my first fall against the door with a loud bang. The idea of him being one. A werewolf. Lupin! Sweet, wonderful…

There was no answer.

"Professor Lupin?" I asked, pressing my ear against the door.

Nothing.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly opened the door. The office, which had once been home to many exotic and semi-dangerous magical creatures on various occasions, which always had the faint smell of tea and really old books mingling together in the air, was now empty. I took a few hesitant steps inside to get a better look. The desk was wiped clean, and the shelves were all empty. A couple of chairs were neatly stacked on one side of the room. He was definitely gone.

I turned around and walked out, feeling slightly numb. I know he was just a professor, and that I'd never see him again anyway since I was leaving…but still. He was leaving too now. And—not that he and I were ever friends or anything—but I felt like I deserved to know about his departure. I had spent hours alone with him in his office, talking about school and work and all sorts of random tangents, and not once had he alluded to his condition, or that he risked losing his job if he had put anyone in danger. I had gotten him chocolates for Christmas, for crying out loud! Didn't I deserve to know that he could be leaving at a moment's notice?

Without realizing it, I had walked right past the Great Hall. It took me several seconds to think about where I was. I turned around to double back, but then turned around once more to keep walking in the same direction. I wasn't in the mood for breakfast.

I was never going to see Lupin again; it was my second day in a row missing out on a chance to get the super ultimate chocolate muffins, but they don't mean a whole lot to me right now. I just wanted to be myself. Walk down this empty, lonely corridor alone, think about Lupin and…everything. Try to wrap my mind around it all. A murderer was still on the loose and had come so close to attacking three students. Lupin was a werewolf and had also come close to attacking the same three students. It was all too much to process. Being alone for the moment was the best thing.

Except I wasn't alone. I had glanced up to see that towards the end of the corridor a guy was walking ahead of me, towards the main entrance to the castle. He was dragging an old tatty trunk and carrying briefcase and was taking his sweet time in ambling his way over to the exit.

Oh, God, would you hurry up already? I want to be alone with my thoughts!

I did a double take at the briefcase and then at person who was carrying it.

Oh…

"Professor Lupin!"

I hurried forward, realizing a second later that I had actually mouthed the words rather than shouted them. I thought about saying his name again so he'd hear me and turn around, but for some reason it seemed counterintuitive—like putting in the energy to use my voice would slow me down or something.

He must have heard my footsteps though because he stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder.

I immediately slowed down to a walk. "Professor Lupin!" I breathed out loud this time.

Expecting him to smile warmly at me in his usual manner, I felt myself freeze when he looked at me with wide eyes—almost scared.

I stopped a couple feet away from him, my mouth frozen in a half-smile. He paused to rest the trunk upright. "Suzie! What are you—"

"Denise told me what happened. Well, not everything…I mean, I'm assuming it's not everything, since we're kids and adults tend to hide the absolute truth from us. But the gist of it, yes, she told me." I blurted out in one breath.

He still did not smile, but only surveyed me warily, as if I might attack him at any moment. "Suzie…" he began with a tired sigh. "I"—He fell silent and bowed his head.

"You're a werewolf." I decided to say it for him. I saw his eyes shut in what I thought might have been a reflex. He looked disgusted. He was disgusted with himself. I shut my mouth tight, clutching my stomach to smother the nauseous feelings inside.

"Yes." He finally said, still refusing to meet my gaze. His voice was a little hoarse as it always was, but quieter now. A little less gentle. "I'm…a werewolf, Suzie. I have lycanthropy and have had it for many years. I'm sorry—"

"For what?" I asked suddenly.

He finally lifted his head to look me in the eye. He shook his head. "For…for being here. For endangering you and everyone else."

I swallowed hard, feeling anger starting to bubble inside me. "You're apologizing for…being here?" I asked, my voice squeaking slightly.

"Well—"

"The only thing I thought you ought to be apologizing about is not telling anyone!" I burst. "Why didn't you say anything?"

He simply shrugged, and his indifference only annoyed me further. "The faculty and staff have known all year. Some of them have known longer, since my days as a student here."

And then it hit me. Hard. The image of a young boy. Quiet and bookish, and having the burden to hide a scary monster from the rest of the world.

"How long have you…"

"I was bitten when I was six." Lupin said quietly.

"So you weren't exactly 'I want to be a werewolf when I grow up!' then, were you?" I asked, forcing a small smile.

He laughed a little. "No. I didn't really have any career aspirations when I was younger."

Recalling a section about half-breed legislation in History of Magic last year, I didn't have to ask why.

"Why are you leaving?" I suddenly asked. "You didn't get sacked—that's what everyone else said. Why are you exiling yourself?"

He shrugged indifferently again. I realized this time around that he was acting indifferent because he wasn't. "I don't know how much you know about what happened last night, Suzie…"

"Denise said some students were outside last night after hours…and…you sort of"—I felt awkward saying it—"you transformed. In front of them. Have you been taking wolfsbane potion all year?" I suddenly asked.

He nodded. "I have. And doing so allows me to safely transform in to a plain old wolf, where I can just sit quietly in my office and wait for the full moon to pass. But last night I forgot to take my potion—"

"And so you became a full fledged werewolf." I finished. I was trying to imagine Lupin—with his genteel disposition and kind brown eyes—becoming a blood-thirsty…monster. I just couldn't. The mere thought of it made me shudder.

Visibly at that, because Lupin continued, "I put others in danger. I could never live with myself if I had actually hurt any of you. The idea of the mere risk I pose just staying here has been torture enough this whole year. That's why I'm resigning."

"But—nothing happened! Everyone's fine! Couldn't you just keep taking your wolfsbane?" I asked. "Just be more…I don't know…careful about taking it on schedule?"

Lupin shook his head, smiling ruefully. "It's too dangerous—"

"Oh geez." I said with a sigh. "This is a school that's had a bloody basilisk squirming around through its plumbing—"

"I heard…"

"And a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who died a couple of years ago because people said You-Know-Who was living off his head and they were trying to get the philosopher's stone!"

"Yes, I know—"

I folded my arms over my chest. "I think we can handle a professor who changes into a wolf once a month, and risk handling the chance that he accidentally becomes a werewolf once in a while."

He laughed humorlessly. "Oh, Suzie."

"I'm serious!" I said, looking him square in the eye. He wanted to protest further, I could tell. But he looked exhausted, as if even a verbal debate could do him in. He had dark circles under his eyes, and I could tell he hadn't shaved in a couple of days. Suffice it to say that I'm incredibly ashamed and rather disturbed that I could find his facial hair hot a time like this…

"I know. It's kind of unnerving, how serious you are." Lupin replied. "It's not a simple as that. My decision to resign is final. And even if I didn't do this on my own, I would almost certainly be fired anyway."

"But Dumbledore wouldn't—"

Lupin shook his head. "Professor Dumbledore has allowed me an education here when no other school would take me, and a job when no one else would hire me. I could never trespass on his kindness any more than I already have. Parents will be complaining about this, and there is no doubt in my mind that the governors at ministry will be having something to say as well. I'd much prefer to end things on my own terms now and then be forced out in a few days."

I opened my mouth to argue, but then shut it. I knew there was no point.

"So…this is it then?" I asked.

Lupin smiled. "This is only the beginning for you, Suzie."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Not in life…I meant with you. With us. I'll probably never see you again, will I?"

Still smiling, Lupin grabbed onto the handle of his trunk and tilted it back so it would go on its wheels. "Even if I never left this school, you would still be leaving today."

I shrugged. "But I would have known where to find you. Now I don't."

"You know very well that most owls are clever enough to find their recipients when delivering letters." Lupin replied, stilling smiling at me. "I have no doubt that if you ever need to contact me, you'll find a way. And besides that, we won't lose all connection. I do read the _Daily Prophet_ when I can."

I smiled for the first time since running into Lupin. "Really?"

"Yes." He pursed lips together, looking a bit hesitant, and then added, "It's a horrible paper, Suzie. Respected by the wizarding world, but horrible all the same. I know you'll change that."

I laughed, completely unoffended. What? I've read the idiocy of Rita Skeeter. I know what he's talking about.

He reached for the handle on the door and pushed it forward. "Well—"

"Can I walk you out?" I asked quickly, suddenly feeling desperate for a few more minutes with him.

He smiled again, shaking his head. "You should go join your friends. I can show myself out." He said, extending his hand out to me.

I smiled. "Since I'm not your student anymore, I don't think I'll feel awkward about this—"

I took a step forward and threw my arms around him, pulling him in for a hug.

It was surprisingly not awkward.

I was only vaguely aware of the fact that his hands were pressed gently against my upper back, that Lupin was much taller than me and that I had to stand on my toes to hug him properly. The only thing I could think about was that we were both done here. We were both going to start new chapters—separate chapters—in our lives.

We pulled away from each other after a moment, and he took a step back, smiling warmly at me the way he always did when I randomly showed up at his office with homework questions. He said goodbye and opened the door to leave. I raised my hand to wave, but he was already out the door.

"Suzie!"

I wheeled around. Coming out of the Great Hall was Denise, followed by Oliver. I felt my countenance brighten slightly.

"We were looking for you!" Denise exclaimed as she fell behind Oliver's faster, broader stride.

"Did you just catch Lupin?" Oliver asked, his gaze shifting to the door behind me.

I nodded. "Yeah. Sorry I disappeared like that. I just wanted to see him real quick." I muttered.

They both joined me on either side. "I think the carriages are pulling up outside," Denise said, glancing over her shoulder at the door. "You should grab some breakfast before we head out. It'll be hours before we get to eat again."

We started walking back in the direction of the Great Hall. Oliver reached a hand into his pocket."I got you a muffin to get started on since I reckon they'll have probably cleared the tables by now."

I glanced sideways as I watched Oliver dig through the inside pocket of his robes. "Um…you put the muffin in your pocket?" I asked, laughing now.

He glared at me. "Well, we were going around looking for you and after a while I felt stupid, walking around, carrying a muffin in my hand."

I laughed again. "Oh, Ollie."

He opened my hand and slapped the muffin onto it. "This relationship isn't going to work if you keep calling me that."

I glanced down at the muffin he had given to me. It was chocolate. Littered with dozens of chocolate chips.

I pulled myself up onto my tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. "I think it's going to work just fine."

* * *

Author's Note:

Stay tuned for an epilogue. I'm not taking any breaks so it'll be up shortly. Um…I guess I can send an email out again if you want to know when I post!


	25. Epilogue

Epilogue

Three years later

* * *

I glanced in the full length mirror, pausing to reach my hands behind my neck to give my hair a good toss-around to add a little more volume. I turned to the side to get a better view of the new protrusion curving over my belly, and I couldn't help but smile. I looked good pregnant!

My hands immediately came down in front of me, caressing my stomach in that gentle way all mothers-to-be do. I glanced up to the mirror again, holding the pose and smiling. Madeline Johnson might have made the cover of _Quidditch Illustrated_ this month, but could she pull off the maternity look? I. Don't. Think. So.

"What are you doing?"

I whirled around to see that the bedroom door was wide open, with Oliver leaning against the frame of it, arms crossed over his chest. He had his lips pursed together in a tight smile. Oh bugger.

Hastily, I pulled the cushion out from under my shirt and dropped it on our bed. "Nothing." I replied, immediately busying myself with redoing the bow on the gift that rested on our bed.

I glanced sideways at Oliver and saw that he still had that amused look on his face. "Take it easy, Suzie. We're not even married yet."

I did my finishing touches on the bow and turned around, sticking my tongue out at him. "You know, technically you still haven't even proposed to me yet." I said, extending my hand out and glancing down at my engagement ring.

He took my hand and pulled me in towards him. "Well, I was _going_ to, but you had to go and find the ring."

I laughed. "Well, you picked a stupid place to hide it."

"How was I to know you'd think to go through my underwear drawer?"

"Oh, Ollie."

He cringed a little. "Right. You wouldn't be you if you didn't periodically go through my underwear drawer."

"Right-o! Oh, hey—so did you pick up a card?"

We were going to Denise and Vince's for dinner and wanted to surprise them with a little something for baby Vincent III. (as it turns out, Mr. Macmillan's name is Vince as well. Still. I have a hard time not calling him Mr. Macmillan. It suits him!)

"Check." Oliver replied, reaching into his back pocket with his free hand and pulling out a light blue envelope. "I signed it for the both of us."

"Oh geez. What did you write?"

Letting go of my hand, he glared at me. "Just because you're a professional writer doesn't mean I don't know how to express my congratulations in written word."

I snatched the envelope out of Oliver's hand and pulled it open despite his protests.

"_Congratulations on your new baby boy!_" I read. I glanced up at him. "Does it ever strike you as weird when people say 'new baby'? I mean…as opposed to what? A used baby?"

He simply stared at me with a blank sort of must-you-vocalize-all-your-thoughts?-type of look, so I continued to read. "_Love, Oliver and Suzie_." I looked up at him again. "Love, Oliver and Suzie? Congratulations on your new baby boy. Love, Oliver and Suzie? That's it?"

"What? It gets the point across!"

I rolled my eyes at him and marched over to my desk for a quill. I swear…

"Hey, take your time with that." I heard Oliver say behind me. "I need to take a quick shower before getting dressed."

I turned quickly in my seat. "Ollie! We're supposed to be there in ten minutes!"

He narrowed his eyes at me in mock anger. Um. At least I thought it was mock anger. "Keep calling me that and I'll stay behind."

I grinned. "You always say that."

Instead of quipping back, Oliver merely rolled his eyes again and headed to the bathroom. Still smiling I turned back to my desk. Honestly. Threatening to stay back just because I call him a name I know he secretly likes. He needs to take lessons in assault from old Snape back at Hogwarts. Or my old newspaper mentor.

Mmph. In some ways I'm going to miss Rita, despite her being a complete bitch. And being a dictator. And a bigot. And just plain weird. She was always good for a pervy, unprofessional joke. But I suppose that one wonderful trait stands uselessly against all the other things weighing against her. Helping _The Daily Prophet_ to spiral down the gutter to become just another ministry newsletter was certainly one of the heaviest things.

Shortly after being hired, award-winning journalism Rita Skeeter took me under her wing. It was—suffice it to say—weird. And obnoxious. Kind of sickening. I mean, she wore clothes she was really too old to be wearing, but I could tolerate that. I could even stand her flirting with Oliver whenever he popped by to see me at work (I can't help it—I like watching him squirm uncomfortably!). But two years ago when Cedric died while participating in Hogwart's Triwizard Tournament, I was done humoring her. She had written an article about the final task, where he died—murdered by You-Know-Who. Well, that's what Dumbledore and Harry Potter reported. What Cedric's parents believed. So I believed it too. Rita, however, painted a picture of some sort of freak-accident. She didn't take kindly to my attempt to interfere with her article. (Ok, I might have used a few inappropriate words here and there, which _might_ have been a mistake seeing as how she was my superior, now that I look back on it. But who can blame me? She _is_ a dumb cow with frizzy, unnatural-looking bleached hair!)

Unbelievably pissed, I was tempted to quit on them. But then I remembered a certain sexy grey-haired stud of an ex-professor told me once that I would help change the shoddiness that is _The Daily Prophet_. So I stuck it out, but decided to stick it out on my terms. Do what I wanted. Be annoying. I would be the obnoxious young blossoming reporter, and my coworkers were all my Snapes. It was emotional hell, but kind of fun while it lasted.

Course, they fired me. And I took an unusual pleasure in it. What was the final straw? Not from my article on the injustices occurring behind closed doors at the Ministry of Magic that I snuck through to the press without permission (honestly, if they wanted to keep unauthorized people from putting stuff on the presses, they should have tighter security!). Not even from when I requested to have a letter to the editor published—one that thanked _The Daily Prophet_ for printing a story I had written about anti-werewolf legislation (signed _R.J.L_. I took the letter home and sighed wistfully over that very familiar handwriting, reading it over and over until Oliver came home from quidditch practice and caught me with it. A very awkward conversation followed. Heh. Long story.)

Nope. The last straw occurred right after Professor Dumbledore's death. I had been given the task of editing the obituary on him written by Elphias Doge. See, I didn't really get along with Elphias Doge—I never did. My parents always had him over at parties and we never really took a liking to each other. So naturally, Rita and friends figured I'd tear apart his beautifully written piece about Dumbledore's life. I didn't. They got mad. My boss, Ted, along with my lovely mentor Rita, came to my cubicle a few weeks ago, standing side by side, to tell me to clear out my desk because I was fired.

I shrugged, opened my lone desk drawer to dump my quills, parchment, and day-old peanut-butter sandwich, and said a few choice things to Rita as a parting gift. ("Yes, that green dress does make you look like an overgrown mermaid, Rita, and no, I don't think Harry Potter is off his rocker. Oh, and I'm actually the one who ate your slice of cherry pie that you made last week, and it was _not_ very good." Ok. I didn't actually say 'overgrown mermaid' even though she did look like one—but the expletives I did choose did a pretty nice job of conveying my thoughts!)

I was now a freelance writer, which was definitely more palatable to me. I do the occasional free article for _The Quibbler_, a semi-regular column in _Teen Witch Magazine_ where I interview young up-and-coming wizards. It's fun, but not as much of a hormone hurricane as I thought it would be. Mmm…I think having Oliver in my life has something to do with that. My all-time favorite publication to write for though is my monthly column in _Sorcerer_. It's a men's magazine, and I am proud to say that I am the only female contributor. I get to write about…well, men! From a woman's perspective. My last article was titled "A Homage to Older Men: Ten Reasons Why Grey is Great." I know this will sound kind of haughty, but I have never been so proud of anything I have written.

Well, except my first book. I just finished my final draft this morning, actually. Well, _my_ final draft. I imagine whoever edits it will tear it apart and it'll be several more drafts before it actually gets published.

I finished up the card for baby Vince and replaced it in its envelope. I glanced over my shoulder, listening to the sound of the shower running. We were going to be so late and it'll be all because of Oliver's uncomfortably long showers (I say uncomfortable because he takes the time to put on conditioner—um, not that I'm supposed to know that. I walked in on him once lathering the stuff in his hair. He muttered something about liking the smell of strawberries and then kicked me out.) Well, while I was waiting for him to finish…

I turned back to my desk and reached for my manuscripts that I had left in the top drawer. The book was finished—I was still playing around with titles. Something silly, or something wanton sounding. That was what the book was about anyway. A novel about an angry but bitter young witch who took polyjuice potion to impersonate her ex-boyfriend in order to get a little revenge. It was fun to write. No, seriously. You have no idea. I had a couple of scenes where I had to describe her boyfriend's body in great detail, and in my determination to be as accurate as possible—you know, to really get the lay of the land—I used Oliver as a model! Walking around, circling him, staring at him from every angle for about half an hour, taking notes…it was incredibly awkward for him and therefore very fun for me.

Yeah, I have no idea why Oliver's still with me either…

Glancing back down at the manuscript I had in front of me, I realized I still needed to finish the acknowledgments page, which currently read: _I owe a great big thank you to…_

I grabbed a quill and began listing all the people that came to mind:

…_my parents for their support and constant stream of motivation to complete this book, and Denise for being my deputy-parent and showing that same support and encouragement; Pomona Sprout, for reading and editing my very first draft, and for all those lectures on moral fibre and whatnot; Minerva McGonagall for her editing and reading, and for teaching me the difference between prostitutes and ladies in the manner in which they sat, and other important aspects about social protocol, without which I would never have survived any of my interviews or fancy work-related dinners; Remus Lupin, who has influenced my writing more than he can ever know; Lastly, Oliver, to whom this book is dedicated, for having a wonderful surname so conducive to perverted jokes. Just kidding, Ollie. Oliver. I love your name, but not half as much as I love you. Thank you for being there, for supporting me, and for always being honest when I ask you if certain robes make me look fat._

I heard the bathroom door open just as I lay my quill down.

"All set?" I asked as I stood up and grabbed the card.

Oliver was buttoning up his shirt. "Just about. Did you fix the card?"

I grinned. "Yes. And I wrote a slightly crass couplet for young Vince to enjoy when he gets older. Denise is probably going to stick it in that baby book she got for him."

He rolled his eyes but smiled as he leaned over the bed to grab the present. "Let's get outside so we can disapparate."

I hurried over to Oliver's side to tuck the card in with the present. "Alright. Let's go."

Holding the gift under one arm, Oliver dropped his free hand around my own, allowing our fingers to interlock as we walked out of our flat together.

* * *

The Actual End

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_Wish my own acknowledgements could be something like Suzie's, but alas, I have more people to thank – mainly all you readers out there. I previously haven't been able to find time to reply individually to reviews like I used to (I'm trying to catch up now!), but I read every single one I get, and greatly appreciate all of them. I write for myself, but you all motivate me to write better, so I thank you!! )_

_Oh- of COURSE….much gratitude to J.K. Rowling for creating this fantastic world in which we can play, and um…my real-life Professor Lupin for being sexy and real, thereby making my job of writing Suzie and Lupin even easier. I only pray that he never comes across this story and connects the dots. :P_

_Other stuff:_

_For those of you who enjoy the wonder that is Remus Lupin, or just want a little more of Suzie, I want to let you know about two possible projects – 1. I've outlined a Remus story, "Rest, Sad Eyes" which, if all goes well, will be massive and will make War and Peace look like a novella. ) What does Suzie have to do with it? Well, I decided to include her in this story – but just a little, and she comes up waaaaaaaaaay into the story a couple of times, but again, her moments there are brief …so…don't get your hopes up. Or maybe you should? Since the story is cough from Lupin's perspective… I'm evil and selfish and trying to ensure that I'll have at least a few readers for my next story. I suck. / But just know that Suzie will live on in another fic. ;) 2. the other possible fic in which she might live on is a one-shot that takes place during Deathly Hallows time. The only reason I'm hesitant to do it is because I like how Suzie's been portrayed in Wanton Confessions, and if I wrote the one-shot, it would be gloomy, emotional, and…um…well, they're in a war! It has to be sad! So I dunno. I shall think about it. )_

_Hope you all enjoyed all of Suzie's somewhat random wanton confessions! )_


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